An Unexpected Lesson
by Conspirator
Summary: Three years after the end of the Bakumatsu, a chance encounter with a kabuki troupe teaches Kenshin an unexpected lesson in survival.
1. Chapter 1

What happened to Kenshin during his wandering years to change him from the cold, efficient killer that was Battousai into the somewhat bumbling wanderer that characterizes him as the rurouni? He must have learned that from somewhere! Here's my take on how the transformation came about.

This is probably the place to say, 'Thank you, Viz, for putting out the English translation of the _Rurouni Kenshin_ manga!' They, as well as Jump, Sony, and other evil empires, own all the copyrights. My deepest bows, however, go to the ultimate copyright holder, Watsuki Nobuhiro. May you earn millions from this, because we sure aren't!

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An Unexpected Lesson

by

Conspirator

Chapter 1

(Somewhere in the mountains of the former Satsuma domain, Fall 1871)

The road was dusty and winding. Not many people seemed to be traveling this mountain road today, though it connected several villages and towns to each other. 'Maybe it's because it's so twisty,' mused the lone traveler, 'or maybe it's all the ruts in it.' Whatever the reason, this particular traveler found the road to be perfect for his purposes. Alone by choice as much as by necessity, he tried to stay away from crowds whenever possible to avoid the inevitable whispers. "Red hair, cross-shaped scar," they'd say. "Isn't that the description of the Hitokiri Battousai?"

Hitokiri Battousai. He had always loathed that name. "Himura," he used to tell his comrades. "My name is Himura Kenshin," but they never seemed to listen. Now, three years after he had walked away from the battlefield at Toba Fushimi, he still couldn't get away from that hated name—or the fear and hatred that name usually engendered. He smiled ruefully to himself. He was just a rurouni now, an aimless wanderer who had sworn never to kill again, and he hadn't. He had left his killing swords behind on that last battlefield. Now he carried only a sakabatou, and still there were revenge-seekers out to take his life. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear there must be a sign on his back saying 'Get your revenge here!'

Leaving his life behind had been difficult. Until he became a rurouni, he hadn't realized how addicted he had become to the rush of adrenaline that came from constant battle. When he cut himself off from the chaos of fighting, it took his body weeks to figure out it didn't need to be on constant alert. The resulting jumpiness had almost driven him mad. Then there was the deep despair that came from knowing that for every victim of his blade, there were even more families wailing in grief because of his actions. His despair became so overwhelming, in fact, that he had even contemplated ending his own life, but then he'd remember Tomoe's last words, that he should live, so he did.

Eventually, though, as time went on, he realized that he was starting to atone for what he had done. There was the fatherless family he had helped to bring in the rice harvest, for instance. They had been most kind to him—until a traveler recognized him and stirred up the village. Still, if he hadn't helped them with the harvest, they never would have made it through the winter.

And there was the village he happened upon that had burned to the ground after a particularly intense lightening storm. He had pitched in and helped them rebuild their homes and stores. They, in turn, had been so grateful that they offered him a small piece of land to farm, but as always, someone recognized him. This time it was a band of local samurai who had taken to extorting "taxes" from the farmers to make up for the income they had lost when the new government did away with their fiefs. When the farmers refused to pay and the samurai started killing in retaliation, Kenshin felt compelled to step in. It only took a few minutes to put the samurai out of commission, but it was enough for someone to put two and two together and figure out that the red-haired stranger was the feared Hitokiri Battousai.

But now, after three years, he had come to terms with his lot in life. It was enough, he figured, that he could wander. If he could be of help to someone along the way, so much the better. It was pretty much the life Hiko led, he realized, and that couldn't be all bad. And now, as fall was settling in, he found himself heading south for the winter on this rather mountainous road in Satsuma. He was just going over yet another rise when he heard shouting from around the bend. He cast out his senses for danger, but felt none. Still, the voices were loud and anguished. As he turned the bend, he saw why—a large wagon had overturned, pinning a man's leg underneath it. Several men, women, and children were trying to lift the wagon off him, but the wagon must have been heavy, for they couldn't seem to do it. The man was screaming in pain.

"Altogether, now, on the count of three!" he heard one of the men shouting.

"Hurry, please!" yelled a frantic woman, who was kneeling next to the trapped man. "He can't take much more of this!"

Kenshin took off at a run to see if he could help. Nobody even noticed him as he quickly dropped his traveling bag and bedroll, and put his shoulder to the wagon as well. After what seemed like an eternity, the wagon finally lifted just enough for the woman to pull the man free. Now a white-haired man, who appeared to be the group's leader, and a swordsman rushed to inspect the man's injuries. Kenshin fell back from the crowd to watch, but even from where he was standing, he could see that there was a very broken leg. As the leader yelled for bandages and water, the swordsman set about trying to remove a large iron hook that had become lodged in the man's thigh; the action caused massive bleeding.

"Damn!" the swordsman exclaimed. "Hurry with those bandages! I can't get this bleeding to stop!"

The victim was now crying out in even more pain and writhing as he did so, making it difficult to staunch the bleeding. Kenshin had not wanted to intrude, but now he reached for his bag and grabbed a small packet of powder. Turning to one of the older children standing nearby, he said, "Quick—go get a cup of water and bring it here!"

The astonished child stared open-mouthed at the stranger, then took off to do as he was told; he returned moments later and shyly handed the cup to Kenshin. Kenshin now stirred the powder into the cup and approached the woman, who was crying softly as she cradled the injured man's head in her lap.

"Onna-dono," Kenshin said to her urgently, "this is a pain-killer. It might help ease your friend's pain…."

The woman looked up, startled. "Who are you?" she asked through her tears. At her words, everyone else looked up, too.

"Just a rurouni, onna-dono," Kenshin said quickly, "but I was a druggist once, and I know a little something of medicine…."

The woman looked questioningly at the leader, who looked long and hard at Kenshin. Then he took the cup from Kenshin and gave it to the injured man.

"If you know anything else about doctoring, stranger, we'd sure appreciate your help," the swordsman said as he tried to stop the bleeding. "I'm not having much success here."

Now Kenshin moved over to inspect the injured leg. The shinbone had a clean break, which in itself would not be too difficult to deal with, but the wound from the large iron hook was causing the blood to flow in torrents. The main blood vessel appeared to be nicked. He quickly poured water over the wound to try to flush any dirt from it and then started ripping strips of bandages into small pieces. Next, he pulled the wound open with his fingers and started packing wads of bandage into the wound. The man, despite the painkiller, screamed even louder.

"Hold him down!" Kenshin yelled as the man's other leg nearly hit him in the face.

Within a minute, the wound was packed and the bleeding stopped. Now the man lay still again, allowing Kenshin to set the leg, which he bound to a halved log that someone had covered with cloth.

"Your friend should be okay now," Kenshin told the group as he finished. "He's lost a bit of blood, but as long as the wound doesn't become infected, he should recover from that. And the leg should heal nicely, too, if he stays off it. Sessha only has a little of the pain-killer left, but it should be enough to tide you over until you reach the next town and a real doctor." And with that, he bowed low and went to pick up his bag and bedroll.

"Wait—don't leave!" the woman cried out. "Can't you stay to help my husband? None of us knows how to deal with something like this!" Turning to the group's leader, she said, "Father-in-Law, please, ask him to stay!"

The leader looked at the injured man, who now lay calm, though pale and moaning. "Rurouni-san," the elderly man, Daisuke, said, "would you be willing to…."

"Father, no!" one of the men broke in. "We don't know anything about this boy! He could be a thief, a rapist, anything!"

Again everyone stared at Kenshin. Kenshin wasn't sure what to do, so he just continued to pick up his things, then stood with his head bowed as he awaited their decision.

"Orinosuke's got a point," Daisuke, admitted. Then, turning to the swordsman, he said, "Baiko-san, you're our security guard. What do you think?"

Kenshin now masked his ki as he sensed the swordsman sizing him up. From the feel of it, Baiko was not a master swordsman, but he was confident and competent—probably a former soldier. Kenshin waited for what seemed like an eternity while the man continued to look him over. Finally Baiko said, "I think he is what he says he is. I don't get the feeling he's dangerous. Anyway, while he was tending Ennosuke-san, I took a look in his bag—just a few crumbs of food and some personal items. I'd say he's no threat."

"Rurouni-san," Daisuke said, turning to Kenshin, "please forgive us for our caution—we've had problems with thieves over the past few weeks. Would you be willing to stay with us for a day or two until we reach a doctor? If nothing else, we could at least show our gratitude for saving my son by giving you some dinner."

Kenshin looked around the group. He had to admit he was rather hungry, and aside from the one untrusting man, everyone else seemed friendly enough. "Arigatou," he finally said. "Sessha will stay until you reach the next town."

Kenshin once again set down his bag and bedroll and followed Daisuke, Orinosuke, Baiko, and the third man, Ryosuke, over to the wagon, which was still lying on its side, in order to help right it.

"Keep an eye on him, will you?" Daisuke said softly to the swordsman Baiko as they went to unhitch the horse. "Just in case."

The wagon was at least the size of a traveling merchant's wagon, but much more ornately decorated. While Kenshin had been tending to Ennosuke's wounds, the women and children had been busy emptying the wagon, and Kenshin now saw that the wagon's contents included two huge trunks of rich-looking clothes, a chest that looked like it was made for swords and other armaments, a huge box of what looked like human hair, and a strange assortment of furniture and pottery, all of which looked like they were of antique design but none of which looked especially old. Kenshin had never seen such an odd assortment of belongings before, but he pushed his questions to the back of his mind as he joined the other men in putting his shoulder to the wagon and pushing with all his might. It took three attempts before the wagon was finally back on all four wheels.

"Father," said an obviously annoyed Orinosuke, "you needed to get rid of this goddamned wagon years ago! They use a different-sized wheel-base here in the south. I've told you that a hundred times, and now look where it's gotten us! Damned thing can't stay out of the ruts, and it's nearly killed Youngest Brother!"

"This wagon has served us since our days in Kyoto, and it will continue to do so," Daisuke said sternly to his son. "I don't want to hear about it again!"

"Kyoto? We left there seven years ago! Only a fool would keep this wagon, for heaven's sake…"

His words were cut off by a sharp slap to the face from an elderly woman. "You watch your mouth, young man," the woman growled. "He is your father, your elder, and your sensei, and don't you forget it!"

Orinosuke glowered with anger. "Even my mother conspires against me," he muttered under his breath as he glared at the older woman.

"Well," said Ryosuke, in an attempt to lighten the mood, "that's sure worked up my appetite. Let's see if there's anything to eat!"

Kenshin could feel four sets of eyes discretely dissecting him as he walked with the men towards the campfire the women were creating in preparation for cooking. He kept his own eyes lowered. He knew from experience that despite his best efforts, he had yet to master the art of looking harmless, and he had no wish to alarm anyone. It was the constantly wary look in his eyes, he had once been told, that tended to set people on edge. However, after what he had seen of the wagon's contents, there would be a good reason for looking wary. What kind of people traveled with a box of hair, not to mention a whole chest of armaments? Had he misjudged this group? He needed to know right away, so as they neared the fire, Kenshin pulled the swordsman aside.

"If sessha could ask," Kenshin said softly, "what kind of people are these? Some of the things in that wagon—the weapons, the human hair…."

"Human hair?" Baiko repeated, looking somewhat confused by the question. "Oh, you mean the hair in that one box?" He started laughing. "Rurouni-san, these folks are traveling kabuki actors! That's not human hair—those are wigs!" And he continued to laugh, much to Kenshin's embarassment, for now all the women and children were staring at him.

"Oh," Kenshin said quietly. He sat himself somewhat behind everyone, where he could nurse his embarassment in privacy. Now he saw Baiko whispering through his laughter to Daisuke, who started laughing as well.

"Ah, Rurouni-san," the elder said through his laughter, "forgive me for not introducing us sooner." His voice suddenly became as deep and powerful as thunder during a violent storm, and the man rose to his feet. "I am Kawayama Daisuke VI, inheritor of the name of the great kabuki actor Daisuke I," he said with a grand flourish. "You have surely heard of us?"

"Um…," Kenshin muttered. "Actually, sessha doesn't know anything about kabuki."

"Come off it, Father, it's not like you're a Danjuro!" laughed Ryosuke, referring to one of the great names of kabuki theater.

"Second Son, your cruelty pierces my heart," said Daisuke with mock sorrow. "No, our family is not as well known as that of Danjuro, but in Kyoto for a hundred years we were well-known and respected, with our own theater even, although now we're based in Satsuma—Kagoshima, to be exact. Moved there during the Bakumatsu, when Kyoto got too dangerous."

Kenshin flinched imperceptibly.

"The daimyo himself invited us," Daisuke was saying. "And these are my sons—my eldest Orinosuke V, my second son Ryosuke III, and my youngest son Ennosuke II over there with the broken leg. Each has achieved enough greatness as an actor to inherit the name of an illustrious ancestor. And you might be…?"

"Ah," Kenshin said, caught off-guard by the question. "Just a rurouni, Kawayama-dono." He never liked to offer more information than that, if he could help it.

"Daisuke-san will do," Daisuke corrected him, "but Rurouni-san will not. You do have a name, I presume?"

Kenshin had no choice. In a soft voice, he answered, "Himura. Himura Kenshin." He noticed the swordsman's eyes flash briefly at the name, but he sensed no hostility or fear. A strange group all around, he decided, which did not make him feel comfortable.

"Well, Himura-san, we are honored to have you join us for dinner," Daisuke continued heartily. "Baiko-san, our guest will bunk with you. Why don't you show him where to put his things?"

Kenshin smiled to himself. Despite Daisuke's welcoming demeanor, the man was obviously going to have the swordsman keep a discreet watch on him. Kabuki actors were no fools, apparently. He bowed low to Daisuke and the others, then retrieved his bag and bedroll and followed Baiko to the edge of the encampment, where the horse had been tethered.

As he walked, he heard the group start whispering to each other. He caught the words "hair" and "odd," and he could feel their eyes on him. His hair—it had been the bane of his existence since the day he was born. In a society that prided itself on conformity, he had always stuck out like a sore thumb. If there could be any humor at all in his former role as a shadow assassin, it was that someone who stuck out so much could hide so well.

"I sleep out here, to keep an eye out for horse thieves," Baiko said as they reached the edge of the clearing. "If you want, I can put up the tent, though I don't think it'll rain tonight or get very cold."

"No, no, sessha is used to sleeping in the open," Kenshin demurred. Then, sensing that Baiko was a friendly sort, he said, "This family, they are actors from Kagoshima, but we're at least a hundred miles from there, and I doubt there are any theaters around here. Are they fugitives?"

Baiko chuckled. "Yeah, I wondered about that, too, when they hired me. You can't be too careful these days, you know? But they're on the up and up. Seems they don't like the hot Kagoshima summers, so they close up their theater in summer and travel in the mountains until about mid-October, when things cool down. They stop along the way and give performances in town squares, shrines, wherever. It's sort of funny to sit out in a forest and watch a bunch of actors practicing, but that's what they do in between stops."

"And you always travel with them?"

"Hell, no—I'm a soldier, or at least I was. I was up in Aizu with the army until recently—the Boshin War, you know—but once the fighting was over, I decided to leave. I was on my way home to Kagoshima anyway when they asked me to be their security guard, so this works out great for me. And I gotta say I won't mind having a master swordsman like you helping me out."

"What makes you think sessha is a master swordsman?" Kenshin asked warily. His eyes narrowed slightly as his hand edged towards his sakabatou.

"Well, you're the Hitokiri Battousai, aren't you?" Baiko replied nonchalantly.

Kenshin tensed but said nothing.

"I think we have an acquaintance in common," Baiko continued, "a guy named Matsuo Hideoki."

"Matsuo?" Kenshin repeated in surprise. "Matsuo from Chousu?" He remembered Matsuo from his first turbulent year in Kyoto.

"That's him. Like I said, I'm just back from the Boshin War, and he was my squad leader. One night, when one of the guys was entertaining us with tall tales about the Hitokiri Battousai, Matsuo stood up and cut him off a look that could kill. 'His name's Himura, not Battousai,' he told us in this really angry voice. 'He was my friend and a good man,' Then he just stalked out. He was so adamant about it, it sort of stuck in my mind."

"Matsuo was kind to me," Kenshin said softly. "Not many were."

"Well, when I heard you tell Daisuke-san that your name was Himura, what with the red hair and all, I realized who you were. Although I have to admit I thought you'd be older—and a lot taller."

Kenshin stared down at his hands. "You'll be telling your employer, then…."

"What for?" Baiko said. "Matsuo's the most honest guy that ever walked the face of the earth. If he says you were his friend and a good man, then I believe him. Anyway, you helped save a man's life today. So why tell Daisuke-san something he doesn't need to know?"

Kenshin looked up in surprise. He had seen all sorts of reactions to the news of his true identity, but this was a new one. In fact, it was rather hard to believe, but the man seemed sincere.

"Arigatou, Baiko-san," Kenshin said, "for your trust."

"Don't mention it. Oh, and just so you know—I'm a pretty light sleeper, and I've got pretty quick reflexes, even in my sleep."

Kenshin chuckled softly. "As do I, Baiko-san, as do I."

The two now returned to the campfire, where the women were passing around bowls of miso soup and rice balls. Kenshin ate slowly, savoring every bite, for it had been days since he had had such a substantial meal. As he ate, he contemplated the group he was now traveling with. He had never met any actors before. He knew that the most famous actors were supposedly so believable in their plays that the audience sometimes thought the plays were real. Were actors, then, able to hide their own ki and take on another's? He cast his senses out towards their ki and was relieved to find they hid nothing at all. Daisuke, although obviously not a warrior, gave off the same aura of supreme confidence that one might expect of a master swordsman. Ryosuke, too, seemed to exude a kind of self-confidence. Orinosuke, however, was a different story. There was an aura about him that was unsettled and angry—not dangerous, but not benign, either. Kenshin decided to keep an eye on that one.

"How are we going to make it back to Kagoshima?" Ryosuke was asking his father as Kenshin once again started listening to the conversation around the fire. "Without Ennosuke, we're sunk."

"The next town's too small for a performance anyway," answered Daisuke, "so we can make do for now by putting on a juggling and acrobatic display and earn some money that way. He'll only be laid up for two or three weeks, right Himura-san?"

Kenshin had only been half-listening and hadn't expected to be involved in this conversation. Before he could take a breath, Orinosuke cut in, saying, "What would he know? He's just a rurouni, and a teenager at that."

"Um, actually, sessha is twenty-two…," Kenshin bristled.

"You're twenty-two?" Orinosuke laughed harshly. "Then I'm the emperor's son!"

"…and it will probably be five or six weeks before your brother's leg is completely healed," Kenshin finished.

"Five or six weeks? Ryosuke's right—we have a problem," Orinosuke growled. Turning to his father he said angrily, "Why you insist on leaving the city every summer I don't know. None of this would have happened if we'd just stayed put…."

"That's enough!" Daisuke commanded. "You know we're due to perform near Miyazaki in a few days, no matter what. We may not be rich, but we'll have more than enough money to make it back to Kagoshima whether we perform anywhere else or not. And you know damned well it's too hot for audiences to come to the theater during the summer. However, I see no reason why we can't rewrite some of the plays to just three characters, and we won't do anything with women in them anymore. Most folks around here won't know the difference anyway."

Kenshin turned to Baiko and whispered, "What's wrong with the women?"

"Nothing's wrong with them," he whispered back. "It's the fact that Ennosuke-san—the one with the broken leg—is their onnagata."

"Onnagata?" Now Kenshin was really confused.

"Women aren't allowed to perform on stage, so male actors dress up like women and play their roles," Baiko explained as he noted Kenshin's confusion.

"Oh." This was indeed a strange world he had entered!

Kenshin slept well that night, better than he had in days—a full stomach certainly made a difference. Still, he awoke with the sun. As everyone, including Baiko, still seemed to be asleep, he got up as quietly as he could and started heading for the trees.

"Where you going', rurouni?"

Kenshin slowly turned around to see a sleepy Baiko, one eye open, looking blearily at him. He was, indeed, a light sleeper.

"To relieve myself, Baiko-san," Kenshin answered.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Well, go ahead," Baiko said with a huge yawn. "Say, and bring back some water, will you?"

Kenshin quietly picked up the buckets that sat nearby and went off. When he returned, he was not surprised to see Baiko sitting up wide awake and watching for him. Baiko may have believed Matsuo that Kenshin was a good man, but he apparently wasn't leaving anything to chance. Kenshin smiled inwardly. He would have done the same thing if he had been in Baiko's place. He nodded briefly as he took the buckets further into the camp.

By now, the rest of the camp was starting to wake up, and he watched in amusement as barely awake mothers scooted after their energetic children, trying to get them to dress instead of play hide and seek in the woods. Eventually, the wife of the injured Ennosuke came out and waved him over, leading him inside their small tent. Ennosuke was weak but awake.

"Anata, this is the man who helped you," she said quietly as she squeezed her husband's hand.

Ennosuke looked up at Kenshin and smiled, an effort that looked like it took all the strength he had at the moment. "I owe you my life," Ennosuke whispered. "How can I ever repay you?"

Kenshin knelt down next to Ennosuke's futon. "No need to worry about that," Kenshin said as he started to unwrap the previous day's bandages, "but you will not be happy to hear that I will have to repack your wounds. It will be quite painful, I'm afraid."

He knew from his own experience how much it hurt to have packing removed and reinserted into a fresh wound, so he excused himself and went to get some water in order to mix up more of his pain-killer. The other men were just settling around the campfire and as he walked past them, he felt them staring at him. If it weren't for the fact that he would be leaving them shortly, he would have worried about the feeling that they weren't just idly watching him. In fact, he felt like they were sizing him up, though for what purpose he couldn't tell. He put it out of his mind, however, as he gave Ennosuke the cup of medicine and proceeded to change the packings. As predicted, despite the painkiller, the procedure hurt terribly, causing the man to cry out more than once. Kenshin finished as quickly as he could, then waited until Ennosuke managed to drift off to sleep once again. Then he returned to the campfire to have some breakfast, only to find that Daisuke and his two other sons were pointing animatedly at him. He stopped, his bearing changing imperceptibly from relaxed to tense and wary.

"Don't you see?" Ryosuke was saying. "Look at his size, the grace of his movements! He'd be perfect!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Orinosuke replied. "He knows nothing about it—he'd make fools of us all."

"He wouldn't have to talk—we could do that for him," Ryosuke countered. "All he'd have to do is move." Turning to his father, he said, "Father, don't you see, the solution to our problem is standing right here before us! He's just about Ennosuke's size—a little shorter, maybe—and he's got the face for it, if you ignore the scar…."

Kenshin tensed even further. What about his scar?

"He could fill in for Ennosuke as an actor until his leg has healed!"

Kenshin's jaw dropped. Now Ryosuke hurried up to him and started leading him forward by the elbow. The surprise on Kenshin's face was evident.

"But… but… sessha doesn't know anything about acting!" Kenshin sputtered as he was led unwillingly toward the campfire.

"Oh, but we can teach you!" Ryosuke said excitedly as he handed Kenshin some food. "Of course, we couldn't give you any speaking roles and you wouldn't be able to handle the dramas, but you could do the comedies. All you'd have to do is pantomime—we could do the rest!"

Orinosuke now stood and walked completely around Kenshin, eyeing him in a very discomforting way. "He is the right size," he admitted, "and he does have the face for it…"

"But, sessha's not…." Kenshin searched frantically for the right words to express what he wanted to say. "I mean, Ennosuke-san is an onnagata!"

"So, is there a problem with that?" Orinosuke asked with a rather unpleasant edge to his voice.

"But…"

"Then it's settled!" exulted Daisuke before Kenshin could say another word. "We'll teach you how to play a woman, and in return we'll give you your meals and a place to sleep for the next few weeks. You don't mind heading towards Kagoshima, do you?"

Kenshin stood there, mouth moving wordlessly. He had just spent the last three years avoiding crowds, avoiding any place where he could possibly be recognized. How could he possibly agree to such an arrangement? But how to explain!

"So, you're gonna be the new onnagata, eh?" Baiko chuckled as he joined the group and picked up a bowl of rice.

"Baiko-san," Kenshin said so that only Baiko could hear, "you know this can't be—if someone were to recognize me, it could endanger everyone!"

"Oh, it'll be fine," Baiko laughed. "Once they've got that heavy white makeup on you, even your own mother wouldn't recognize you!"

Kenshin wasn't so sure about that, but he did need a job, and he had been heading south anyway. He barely had time to grab a bowl of rice before he found himself being shepherded by Ryosuke and his father towards the wagon.

"So, Rurouni-san," Ryosuke was saying "it won't be hard at all to be a woman—let me tell you…"

****

Japanese Terms:

Onna-dono: My lady (literally, Miss Lady).

Arigatou: Thank you.

Sessha: 'this unworthy one,' considered to be an archaic form of address.

Ki: a person's 'aura.'

Bakumatsu: the civil war that pitted the Ishin Shishi against the Shogunate.

Daimyo: Japanese equivalent of a feudal lord during the Edo period.

Anata: My beloved.

****

Conspirator's Note: Well, as you can undoubtedly tell, this story will have a bit of humor in it, but overall it will still be a drama, with some angst thrown in for good measure. Basically, I started wondering how the incredibly efficient, but tormented, assassin turned into the swirly-eyed idiot who allows himself to be beaned rather regularly by the bokken-wielding Kaoru hate hate!—Co-C.. Of course, we all know it's only an act, but he had to learn that from somewhere, and what better place to learn it than from a bunch of kabuki actors! The onnagata bit? With all the ribbing he gets from everyone about his height and girly looks, I just couldn't resist! So, this story will combine overall drama and angst with a bit humor at Kenshin's expense.

If the name Matsuo of Chousu doesn't ring any bells, that's because he doesn't appear anywhere in the manga or anime—only in a story I wrote awhile ago called _Descent into Madness_. There may be a few other references back to that story in the chapters that follow, but you don't need to have read it to understand this story. It's just an author's conceit (laziness?), that's all.

A few notes about kabuki and character names. Even to this day, there are dynasties of kabuki actors that trace their roots back several hundred years, the most famous being the dynasty founded by the seventeenth-century actor Danjuro. If a member of a dynasty is deemed to have achieved great enough success as an actor, he is allowed to inherit the name of a famous forbearer. This may happen more than once in an actor's lifetime as he rises through the ranks in prominence, so an actor may end up having two or three professional names within his lifetime. I made up the Daisuke dynasty, but the naming practice conforms to what real kabuki dynasties do (Daisuke VI, Orinosuke V, etc.). But if those aren't the names the actors were born with, or even the names they might have had two years ago, what do they really call each other? I decided they'd use generic-type names, such as "First Brother" or "Youngest Son"—names that would never change, no matter what.

Some historical notes: After the fall of the Shogunate in January 1869, the domain of Aizu revolted. This started the Boshin War of 1869-1870, which eventually spread as far north as Hokkaido. The Satsuma army put down the rebellion on behalf of the new Meiji government, but for purposes of this story I've figured that experienced Chousu soldiers might have participated as well. Regarding surnames, right after the fall of the Shogunate, the government required all people, not just samurai, to have a surname, so it was still pretty new to people in 1871. And don't flame me about using the domain name Satsuma—I know the domains were abolished and renamed in 1870-71, but I'm figuring that old habits died hard and people were still using the old names in general conversation.

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Co-Conspirator's Note: Kenshin as a woman—you saw it coming, but you weren't quite sure how it was going to happen. sigh Well, whatever. It occurred to me that this will be our very first wandering fic. We've had some Jinchuu, Tsuioku Hen, and even a little Tokyo arc in there, but never a wandering fic. It's kind of a nice change, although it took quite a bit of angst to get this written glares at Conspirator. I'm just kidding. Hope you like the first chapter, 'cause there's more to come! Comments, questions, and constructive criticisms are always welcome. Ja ne!

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Next chapter: Kenshin gets a taste of what he's in for as an onnagata, finds himself the object of suspicion, and encounters someone who brings up unwelcome memories of his past.


	2. Chapter 2

Will being an onnagata for a kabuki troupe be enough to keep Kenshin's identity a secret? 

The identity of the copyright holders is no secret: Watsuki Nobuhiro, who deserves every penny he makes from his wonderful creation; and the conglomerates who all make a buck off of him, namely Jump, Sony, Viz, etc. Alas, I make nothing from my fanfic….

**An Unexpected Lesson**

**By **

**Conspirator**

**Chapter 2**

The Hitokiri Battousai as a woman. Kenshin couldn't believe he had just agreed to be a kabuki onnagata for a traveling theater group. Well, Kenshin mused, if nothing else, no one would think to look for him as a woman. It may have been three years since the end of the Bakumatsu, but he knew from hard experience that the hatred of those who sought revenge against the Hitokiri Battousai had not lessened one whit. What was worse, the discovery of his identity had led more than once, during his wanderings, to the death of some of the very people who had been kind to him. 

            But here he was among people who had no idea who he was, except for the swordsman Baiko, who didn't care. What were the chances that anyone would recognize him while he was on the stage dressed as a woman? And since the kabuki troupe was constantly on the move, what were the chances that someone in the troupe would meet anyone who might recognize him when he was out of costume? The prospect of regular meals for a few weeks was awfully enticing….

            "The only problem you'll have playing a woman is walking in those god-awful high geta," Ryosuke was saying as Kenshin shifted his attention back to the man at his side. "It gives you a new appreciation for the weaker sex when you have to wear their get-up."

            They had reached the troupe's wagon, where Ryosuke's mother, Ikuko, awaited them. She had pulled out one of the trunks and was rummaging through it to find the women's costumes. Kenshin stared as she sorted through an array of fine silks, all with the most intricate embroidery.

            "Ah, here's what I'm looking for," Ikuko said as she pulled out a beautiful blue kimono embellished with dragons and bamboo. She held it up in front of Kenshin and shook her head. "Too long. Ah, well, time for alterations." She motioned for Kenshin to follow her into the wagon, which he did after a push from Ryosuke. 

"Kawayama-dono," Kenshin said, "Sessha is still not too sure about all this…"

"Nonsense, Himura-san!" Ikuko said. "You'll do just fine! And call me Ikuko. We took a surname when the government told us we should, but I'm not used to it yet."

Kenshin watched as Ikuko assembled an assortment of pins, needles, and thread. "Well, now, we just have to fit that costume to you…."

As she spoke, Ikuko reached out to remove Kenshin's sword from his obi, the first step in preparing him for a fitting. Suddenly, faster than she could see, she found her wrist caught in a vice-like grip.

"Ouch!" she yelped in surprise.

Kenshin instantly dropped her wrist as if it were a hot coal and backed away—the reflexes of the hitokiri were too fast, too ingrained.

"Forgive me, Ikuko-dono," Kenshin said quickly as he bowed his head in apology. "I wasn't thinking…."

Ikuko recovered from her surprise quickly.  "No, no, it was my fault entirely," she said a bit breathlessly as she rubbed her sore wrist. "I should have realized—you're a swordsman, not an actor! That's a real sword, not a prop. Of course I shouldn't be touching your sword! Can you forgive an old woman who's too used to dressing and undressing a bunch of actors?" 

Kenshin remained where he was, head bowed and clearly upset by what had happened.

Ikuko looked at Kenshin with an appraising eye. He was so tense, this young man, as if he thought he was in constant danger, but why? She took a step closer—slowly this time—and carefully took his hand in hers. She patted it reassuringly, feeling him shrink from her touch. Was he so unused to kindness from people?

"Ikuko-dono, perhaps this is not a good idea," he said softly. He wanted to remove his hand but was afraid to do so.

"Come now, young man, you haven't hurt me, and you were quite right to protect your sword. However, kimono don't look very elegant draped over swords, so perhaps you could remove your sword while we fit you, eh?" 

She saw a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He removed his hand from hers, then knelt on the floor and placed his sakabatou before him in the position all swordsmen learn to show respect for one's weapon. Then he stood again. 

Ikuko watched his movements with fascination. Rarely had she seen anyone move with such fluid grace, like water flowing over smooth stones. Even her sons didn't move with that kind of grace, she mused, although as actors, they came close. She supposed it came from training as a swordsman, although she guessed from his quick reflexes that perhaps he might have been a soldier once as well. It would be interesting to see how this young man worked out as an actor. 

Kenshin watched uncomfortably as Ikuko's eyes now traveled up and down his body, taking in the threadbare and much-mended state of his old brown gi and the somewhat tattered state of his gray hakama. He found himself shifting from one foot to the other, not sure what else he should be doing and feeling very naked without his sword at his side.

"Well, those clothes will never do," Ikuko finally said. "I thought perhaps, if your gi were suitable, you could use that under a costume, but no, we'll have to do the full treatment on you. You see, high-born aristocratic women don't wear just a kimono—they wear three and sometimes four under-kimonos as well, all carefully layered to show the different colors at the neck and sleeve. For our costumes, most of those layers are just sewn right onto the collar and cuff for effect, but the actor needs to wear at least one layer underneath so you don't get your perspiration on the costume. Your gi might have worked if it were in better shape, but I think we'd better just use one of Youngest Son's under-kimonos. So, you'll need to take your gi off."

The look on Kenshin's face nearly sent her into a fit of laughter, for his eyes became as big as plates.

"Remove my gi?" he gulped. "Here?" Undressing in front of a woman was something he hadn't counted on when he agreed to this plan!

"Just pretend you're with your own mother—surely you wouldn't be too modest to change in front of her," Ikuko said, trying to keep a straight face as she held out a long pink under-kimono. 

Kenshin wasn't sure what to say to that. He barely remembered his mother, but he knew that others had no qualms about doing this kind of thing in front of their parents. Ikuko, however, was not his mother. If he could manage to get past this, though, he would have a job and guaranteed meals for several weeks, which was nothing to sniff at. Reluctantly, he started untying his gi, but he turned his back to Ikuko before taking it off. 

Ikuko wasn't sure what she expected to see, but it wasn't this. For such a slight young man, he certainly seemed to have a very muscular back, and she was surprised to find there were hardly any scars on it at all except for some strange-looking gashes on his shoulders and neck, and a long, thick scar near his waist that circled around from the front. It wasn't as if she made a habit of looking at men's backs, but wouldn't a soldier have more scars than that? Perhaps he hadn't been a soldier after all, although there were those two deep scars on his cheek….

 Then he held his arm out behind him for the under-kimono. It was a thin arm, with sinewy rather than bulging muscles, but an arm that bespoke great strength nonetheless. As she placed the under-kimono in his hand, she noticed a field of scars, mostly small, running up and down his arm. Only a few looked deep or serious. Yes, he must have been a soldier—it was the arm of someone who had been touched by swords in battle. Surprisingly, the scars were all quite pale. It took years for the redness of most scars to fade, which meant that these must be quite old. Her husband had told her that this young man was only twenty-one. He couldn't have fought even before the recent Boshin War, could he? He would have been too young! He certainly was a mystery, this young man was.

Now Kenshin turned back to Ikuko, the pink under-kimono tied securely around his waist. "It's a bit big on me," he said sheepishly as he looked at the fabric puddling around his feet and the sleeves hanging past his fingers.

"My, you are short, aren't you!" Ikuko laughed as she gathered her pins. "About two inches shorter than my Ennosuke, it looks like. Ah, well, you will look just right playing a woman." And she began to mark hems on the sleeves and bottom of the garment. "You'll be glad to know that once I've got this fixed, you'll never have to dress or undress in front of me again." Was that a sigh of relief she heard? "However, before you put your own gi back on, I do have to show you how to wear the chest-piece."

Chest-piece? Kenshin's head whipped around so fast he almost knocked into Ikuko. "Ikuko-dono, sessha…"

"Oh, don't worry!" Ikuko laughed. "It's not what you think! It's just a wad of stuffing attached to a shoulder harness." 

She rummaged once again in the trunk and pulled out what looked like a large, square, padded package with shoulder straps. "Here, you just slip the straps over your arms so, and there you are!" She placed the contraption on Kenshin's chest. "When we put a full costume over it, you'll look just like a woman."

To prove her point, Ikuko took the blue kimono she had put aside and slipped it over Kenshin's arms and wrapped it around him. Then, grabbing a long sash, she quickly tied a simple obi around his waist. As with the under-kimono, the blue kimono was much too long for him, but Ikuko was positively delighted with what she saw. She held out a large mirror to Kenshin.

"See, Himura-san? You look just like a woman!"

Kenshin looked in the mirror and began blushing redder than his hair. It was as if his head had been plopped atop the body of some young woman, except it was him! He felt completely disoriented.

"I…but…it's not…," he sputtered. Then finally, "Help, Ikuko-dono!"

Ikuko couldn't contain herself any longer. She started laughing so hard she thought her sides would split. 

"Himura-san," she managed to say between laughs, "don't be so embarrassed! You look perfect! But you must stop blushing!"

Kenshin couldn't take it—all the taunts he had endured over the years about his supposedly girlish looks came flooding back. He started fumbling for the tie to the obi. He had to get this kimono off and become his male self again! Ikuko noticed a certain desperation in his motions. 

"Is it that shocking to see yourself in the mirror dressed like that?" she asked.

Kenshin vigorously nodded his head yes. Ikuko suddenly turned serious.

"Himura-san," she said forcefully as she restrained him from untying the obi, "let me be blunt. I'm guessing you used to be a soldier, like Baiko-san, and what is a soldier taught to do? You were taught to kill. It doesn't matter whether you were fighting for or against the government, that's what you were taught to do, and that brings only grief and sadness to the families of your victims. Isn't that right?" 

Kenshin suddenly became very still and, she noticed, even more tense than before. 

"But what are actors taught?" she continued in a gentler tone of voice. "They're taught how to transport people away from their everyday cares and woes, and that brings happiness and joy to those who watch our plays. That's what we're offering to teach you."

Kenshin's face was unreadable, his eyes flat and emotionless, but Ikuko knew she had struck a chord. She saw something flicker briefly across his face, then watched has he lowered his eyes and let out a soft sigh.

"Happiness and joy have never been associated with this one," Kenshin finally said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Sessha doubts they ever will."

Ikuko was taken aback at this statement.

"But you've already brought happiness and joy—to my family," Ikuko said. "We would have lost Ennosuke but for you. Why not give this a try—what have you got to lose? Perhaps it will even bring a smile to your face. At any rate, we would be most grateful for your efforts."

Kenshin gave a short breath of a laugh. If his life had taught him nothing else, it had taught him that happiness and joy were not meant for him, nor were they meant to be given by him. Still, what Ikuko offered him was so tempting. He had been happy once, in Otsu. His time with Tomoe had almost made him feel like life was worth living. Perhaps he could help these kabuki actors bring some happiness to others even if he himself could never experience such joy again. 

"Sessha will try," Kenshin finally said as he looked once more at himself in the mirror, "but I may never get used to this."

Ikuko chuckled and patted his hand. "Don't worry, Himura-san, no one ever really does."

It was with great relief that Kenshin changed back into his own clothes and placed his sakabatou back into his obi. He had only been a 'woman' for perhaps five minutes, but it was enough to make him feel strange wearing his own clothes again. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sakabatou as if trying to reacquaint itself with a long-lost friend. He wished he could go somewhere right now to practice his kata, just to remind himself that he still _was_ himself, but as he left the wagon, he could see that everyone was packing in preparation for leaving. So, he headed off to gather up his travel bag and bedroll. As he did, he found Baiko waving him over.

"Himura-san, if I could have a word with you?" He led Kenshin off away from the others. "Remember yesterday when I said I wouldn't mind having a master swordsman around to help me? Well, I just ran into some folks coming up from the town we're headed for, and they say there've been problems with yakuzas down that way."

"Is that why the road was so deserted?" Kenshin asked.

"I wouldn't doubt it," Baiko replied, "and if what they say is true, then we've got a problem. These kabuki folks look like they're rich, what with the money they take in for each show and all the fancy do-dads they use for costumes and props, but they aren't—it just makes them a ripe target. I was at one of their shows last month when I saw someone trying to steal their horse. I managed to nail the guy and return the horse, which is why they hired me to stay with them as a guard. And they say their till was stolen once before that. The men all have had some formal sword training, but quite frankly, from what I've seen, they'd be useless in a real fight. A couple of petty thieves I can deal with by myself, but yakuzas?"

"What would you like me to do?" Kenshin asked.

"I've asked Daisuke and his sons to all dress in samurai get-up to make us look more formidable, if you know what I mean. Orinosuke-san always walks out in front, and Ryosuke-san and Ennosuke-san always guard the sides of the wagon. I bring up the rear. Daisuke-san drives. The women and the older children walk alongside the wagon—only the littlest ones ride inside. With Ennosuke-san out of commission, though, if you wouldn't mind taking his spot…."

"Whatever sessha can do to help," Kenshin said. 

"Although," Baiko said, "if we could get Orinosuke-san to agree, it would be even better to have you out front."

"I am the eldest son of this family—I will remain out front."

The two turned to find Orinosuke walking towards them. 

"So, you think I'd be useless in a sword fight," Orinosuke said in a sarcastic tone of voice. "I'll have you know I studied kenjutsu for eight years, which is probably more than either of you ever did. I will remain at the head of this caravan. By the way, I've come to tell you we're  leaving. Now." Then he turned on his heel and strode away.

"Now you know why the security guard brings up the rear," Baiko growled.

Kenshin's eyes narrowed as he felt hostility emanating from Orinosuke's ki. "He's angry at more than just us, isn't he," he said.

Baiko rolled his eyes and sighed. "That guy's got a chip on his shoulder bigger than the whole of Mt. Fuji, though for the life of me I don't know why. Oh, just leave him up front. It's only about two hours to the next town anyway. We would have made it there last night if we hadn't had that accident. Maybe you could keep an extra-keen eye out, though, eh?"

Kenshin nodded, and the two walked back to the wagon as the caravan headed for the road. As he took up his position on the right side of the wagon, Kenshin started to get an almost surreal feeling. How many times during the Bakumatsu had he done this exact job, walking as a guard to a convoy? A dozen times? Two dozen? It had been over three years since he had done so, but the old habits came back instantaneously—the tense wariness as his senses went on alert for the slightest hint of danger. He almost expected that when he looked to his side, he would find Ishin Shishi leaders or perhaps a squad of soldiers surrounding caissons of ammunition. Instead, he found himself next to Ennosuke's wife, Noriko, and her three-year-old daughter, and the wagon was full of kabuki costumes, not ammunition. For the second time that morning, he wondered what he had gotten himself into. A tiny smile curled at the corners of his mouth as he contemplated the absurdity of the whole situation.

They had been walking only a few minutes when Kenshin noticed the mother and daughter sneaking looks at him. He had always been uncomfortable in the presence of strangers, for if they were not staring at him outright, then they often wanted to engage him in conversation, and he really was not very good at that. Sure enough, after about ten minutes, Noriko started talking.

"We are so grateful to you, rurouni-san, for helping my husband," she said demurely.

"Aa," Kenshin replied, eyes straight ahead. 

After a minute or two of silence, she spoke again. "Have you ever been to a kabuki production?" she asked.

"No, Noriko-dono, never," he answered, his eyes never wavering from the road.

"Then you don't know what you've been asked to do," she commented. "The children all love the comedies, what with the characters throwing things at each other."

Kenshin turned a surprised face to her. "Throwing things? That's what I'll be doing?"

She laughed daintily. "Sometimes, and sometimes you'll just hit one of the characters on the head with a frying pan."

Kenshin smiled. He remembered the run-ins some of the men used to have with Okami-san, the woman who ran the inn he stayed at his first year in Kyoto. She could be feisty at times and had done just that on more than one occasion. "I thought kabuki was all about ancient times and ancient battles," Kenshin finally said.

"Oh, no, some of it is old folk tales and silly stories, just to lighten the mood between the serious plays," she said. "And not all the stories are old. Father-in-Law has even written a play about the Bakumatsu. It's very popular in Satsuma."

Kenshin tensed. "What about the Bakumatsu?" 

Noriko noticed the change and clutched her little girl's hand just a bit tighter. How stupid of her, she thought, to mention the Bakumatsu without knowing anything about this wanderer. After all, there were still plenty of supporters of the former shogunate around, even this far south. 

"It's about the Ikedaya affair," she said hesitantly, watching for his reaction. "The Ishin Shishi are the heroes, the Shinsengumi are the villains, and Okubo Toshimichi of Satsuma, who survives the attack, swears vengeance on the shogunate."

Kenshin chuckled softly, to Noriko's relief. 

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Okubo Toshimichi was not there," Kenshin said with a laugh, "and Satsuma ended up siding with the Bakufu that summer."

"How do you…," she started, but then she remembered her manners and regained her composure. "I mean, after all, our theater is in Satsuma, so Father-in-Law wrote it to appeal to our audience."

"Ah," he said, a laugh still in his voice.

Now the little girl started pulling on her mother's arm and whispering loudly in her ear as she pointed at Kenshin. Kenshin heard something about 'funny hair' and her mother's admonitions to remember one's manners. He sighed inwardly. He would never fit in in this country, not with his red hair. 

"Rurouni-san," Noriko finally said aloud, "my little girl wants to know your name, but I am embarrassed to say that I don't know what it is."

This was an unexpected request, and a pleasant one at that. Kenshin decided the least he could do would be to honor the little girl with his best manners, so he stopped and made a most formal bow to her. 

"Himura Kenshin, de gozaru yo," he said in a solemn voice, although Noriko noticed a smile in his eyes, "but you may call me Kenshin."

The little girl just stood staring, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. 

"Nomi-chan," her mother whispered, "where are your manners?" 

The little girl gave a quick bow and managed to mumble, "Nomi desu," before running behind her mother to hide.

            "Please forgive her, Himura-san, but no one has ever treated her in such a grown-up way before," Noriko laughed. She tried to take Nomi's hand once again, but the little girl darted away and ran to the other side of the wagon. 

            "This new Meiji era is for them," Kenshin said. "They deserve our respect."

            Noriko gave him a look. What a curious thing to say, she thought, but she had no time to follow up on it for Nomi had come running back with two little boys, aged four and seven. They placed themselves in front of Kenshin and Noriko and stood, waiting expectantly. Kenshin looked at Noriko and said, "What?"

            It took Noriko only a moment to figure out what the children wanted. "Himura-san," she chuckled, "these are Ryosuke-kun's children, Oda and Saburo. I think they want you to introduce yourself to them, too."

            Kenshin obliged them with another formal bow. "Himura Kenshin, de gozaru yo," he said, "but you must now tell me your names."

            The two boys blushed and stammered out their names. Then they ran off. Kenshin laughed quietly. "Will there be any more?" he asked, an unaccustomed smile on his face. The wagon was now passing them by, followed by Baiko. Baiko was trying hard to keep a straight face.

            "There's only Byako and Bunjiro, Orinosuke-kun's two boys," Noriko said as she and Kenshin hurried to catch up, "but they're nine and twelve. I don't think they'd get the same thrill as these three at being treated like adults."

            The ice had been broken, and Kenshin felt a bit more comfortable walking next to this woman. Now he had a chance to size up his traveling companion. He felt a little odd in doing so, since she was a woman, but this was one habit from his days as a hitokiri that he had chosen to keep. It had always made him feel more comfortable—more safe—to know everything he could about the people around him, just in case…. 

In case of what, he wondered? This woman, he could tell, was not about to pull out a katana, for heaven's sake, or even a tanto. Her ki was as light as a breeze on a summer's day, and despite her worry over her husband's injuries, she radiated a kind of serene happiness. She seemed to be about his own age, not much taller than he was, and she was very beautiful. That alone had made him nervous at first, but she seemed to have a way of putting him at ease. Her playfulness when Ryosuke's two sons came by again to hear another formal greeting from Kenshin had confirmed his feeling that she was a very happy woman. He wondered briefly if Tomoe had ever felt that happy. 

Not long after Ryosuke's children had run back to their own mother, Orinosuke's wife joined them. Kenshin felt a sudden shift in Noriko's ki at the approach of this stern-looking woman.

"Noriko-chan," Orinosuke's wife said in a curt voice, "you may join your other sister-in-law and Ryosuke-kun now."

"I'm fine staying on this side," Noriko said somewhat stiffly. 

"But you will go over there anyway, won't you, Noriko," the woman ordered.

Kenshin was somewhat startled by the woman's rude manner towards her sister-in-law. It wasn't unusual for an older woman to call a younger one '-chan,' but to use it and then leave it out entirely? Well, it was none of his business. He kept his eyes and senses on the road ahead as Noriko bowed quickly and hurried off. Orinosuke's wife, however, had come with a purpose, and she lost no time in pursuing it. As soon as Noriko was gone, she turned to Kenshin and said, "I understand you call yourself a rurouni, Himura."

No honorific for him, either. Well, he was just a rurouni, after all. 

"Hai, onna-dono," he answered. 

He took a side-long glance at her. She was tall and regal-looking, at least ten years older than Noriko, with a hard set to her mouth and a ki as brittle as ice. He felt himself tensing almost as if he were preparing for battle.

"Where do you come from?" she asked bluntly.

It was clear now that this woman had come to interrogate him, whether of her own accord or at the behest of her family he did not know.  Regardless, he mentally erected all his inner defenses. There were just some things he would not divulge to anyone for any reason.

"Sessha grew up in the mountains, onna-dono, west of Kyoto," he answered vaguely in his most polite voice.

She threw him a sharp look. "West of Kyoto? Humph, the sticks, you mean. Well, that accounts for your odd manners. Sessha indeed! And you will address me with my proper name."

"Gomen nasai, onna-dono, but I do not know your name," Kenshin replied with a contrite bow.

"It's Kawayama Mayako, and you will call me Kawayama-san," she ordered.

"Hai, Kawayama-dono."

She ignored the '-dono.' 

"And we will be keeping an eye on you," she continued tersely. "Anything goes missing, we'll know who stole it."

Kenshin was used to this kind of suspiciousness—he was a total stranger, after all—but there also seemed to be a certain amount of hostility in Mayako's manner. Perhaps he was not welcome after all.

"Kawayama-dono," Kenshin said quietly, "if you would prefer, I will leave as soon as your family has found a doctor for Ennosuke-san."

Mayako shot him another look. She didn't trust this young man from here to there, and neither did her husband. Freeloader, that's what Orinosuke had called him—a professional freeloader, in all likelihood. She didn't believe he'd give up his free meals so readily.

"Well, that is not my decision to make," she responded. "That old fool Daisuke has said you will stay with us, and so you will stay with us until he decides otherwise. He _is_ the head of this family, whether we like it or not. But we _will_ be keeping an eye on you." And with that, she swept off.

            No sooner was she gone than Baiko sidled up. He looked around to see if anyone was within earshot, then said, "She give you that 'we'll keep an eye on you' speech? She did the same thing to me when I first came."

             "Sessha took no offense," Kenshin replied. "It's only to be expected." 

            "Expected?" Baiko repeated. "You _expect_ people to assume you're a thief or something?"

            "Sessha is only a rurouni," Kenshin answered matter-of-factly. "These people know nothing about me, other than that this one helped them in an emergency. Kawayama-dono was just looking out for the safety of her family. It is no more than sessha deserves."

            Baiko looked at Kenshin in amazement. This was _the_ Hitokiri Battousai, wasn't it? The assassin of legend? The man some were calling one of the greatest patriots of the Bakumatsu? The guy probably deserved a few medals, not to mention a lifetime pension! And he _expected_ to be treated like a thief? Kenshin could sense Baiko's confusion.

            "Baiko-san," Kenshin said after a long moment, "how long have you known me?"

            "Who me? Less than a day," Baiko answered. "Why?"

            "This morning, when this one woke up and tried to go to the woods quietly, what did you do?"

            "Asked where you were going, of course," he said.

            "Because even though we have a mutual acquaintance who vouched for my character, you weren't quite sure for yourself, were you. And rightly so. How could sessha take offense at your suspiciousness when you were only doing the right thing? It's the same with Kawayama-dono, whether sessha likes it or not."

            Baiko looked at him as if he couldn't believe what he heard. Most men would have been fuming, vowing vengeance, anything to put that bitch of a woman in her place. He certainly wouldn't have been surprised to find a hitokiri, especially _this_ hitokiri, feeling like that. His mind, however, couldn't seem to reconcile what it thought it knew with the words this particular hitokiri had just said. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and gave up.

"I gotta get back to my post," Baiko said. "Just don't let her get to you, okay?"  
  


            "Don't worry," Kenshin said with a small smile. "She won't."

            'That old fool Daisuke.' Mayako's words, tossed off so casually, were what really concerned Kenshin, not her demeaning comments to him. It had been years—three years, to be exact—since he had heard words like that thrown around, back in Kyoto during the Bakumatsu. If it wasn't the men complaining about their 'old fool' commanders, then it was leaders like Katsura Kogoro or Yamagata Aritomo complaining about some 'old fool' politician with whom they disagreed. He wondered what could be going on in this seemingly happy group to cause such anger and dissention between Daisuke and his family. He had no experience with families to judge this by, having never lived in a family himself except when he was too young to remember. 

With no one walking with him now, his mind continued to wander even as his eyes and senses kept on alert. Up ahead he could see Orinosuke's two boys walking behind their father, imitating his swagger and drawing their bokkens in play. Occasionally, their father would look back to point something out to them, and eventually the twelve-year-old, Bunjiro, moved up to walk alongside his father. The nine-year-old, Byako, fell into step with his mother, who casually laid her arm around the boy's shoulder. It was a comfortable gesture, not at all in keeping with her previous hostile attitude towards himself. 

It made his thoughts turn to Tomoe, as most things tended to do. He and Tomoe had been so happy during those few short months in Otsu. It was there that he learned what happiness really was, that two people could live together and care about each other and even find they loved each other. He often wondered what life would have been like if Tomoe hadn't died. He knew it was futile to contemplate what-ifs, but he couldn't help it. Maybe they would have had children, maybe they would still be there today, farming the land and hearing the sounds of their little family's happy laughter, maybe it would be comfortable, like the gesture of this mother towards her son. But he knew that it could never have come to pass. Even if Tomoe had not died, Katsura would still have come back for him. He would have had to return to Kyoto, return to being a hitokiri, in all likelihood. And Tomoe—would she still have loved him then? No, he needed to stop thinking like this. Toshiro, the old monk at the monastery where Tomoe was buried, had told him many times that it was dangerous to one's well-being to dwell on the past, that he needed just to concentrate on the present. But what if there was no purpose to living in the present? What if the only purpose he had for living was a promise he had given to the one who had died?

Not long before lunchtime, the caravan finally reached its destination, the small village they had hoped to reach the day before. As was their custom, the women and children climbed into the wagon before entering the town to prevent anyone from getting separated from the group by accident. That would have been difficult here, though, for the town was a compact little place with a single street of shops ringed by a sprinkling of small houses. As they reached the center of town, people started coming out of their homes and stores to see who this strange group was, with their gaily decorated wagon. Daisuke finally pulled the horse to a stop and leaned down to the nearest person.

"Good sir," he said to the young man, who looked to be a blacksmith, "we had an accident yesterday and are in need of a doctor. Is there one in your village?"

The blacksmith looked suspiciously at the wagon and especially at the four men with swords walking beside it.

"That would depend on who's needing the help," the man said after some thought.

Daisuke looked around at the crowd that had gathered and saw that there was suspicion in all of their eyes. He stood up, and in his most theatrical voice he announced, "Good people, we are the Daisuke Kabuki Family of Kagoshima! We have come to brighten your day with a display of acrobatics and juggling! One of us, however, was injured yesterday when our wagon overturned."

 "Not yakuzas?" a woman whispered.

Daisuke turned to her. "We saw no yakuzas, onna-san," he said in a quieter voice, "although we heard earlier that there were some on the road. Have you had problems with them?"

There was muttering among the crowd, but no one answered. Then the blacksmith pointed down the street and said, "Our town teacher is our doctor. You'll find him at the house with the school sign out front."

Daisuke bowed low and said, "We are most grateful. In return for your help, we promise a wonderful show at three o'clock!" 

The crowd suddenly went "Oooh!" and started scattering to spread the news, leaving the way clear for the wagon to continue on to the doctor's house.

"At least I hope it'll be at three o'clock," Daisuke muttered, "because I haven't found the town elders yet to get their approval. Oh well, let's find this doctor. Lead on, First Son!"

            The school was at the very edge of town. Daisuke almost thought they had somehow missed it, but then Orinosuke called out, "There it is." From the look of the roof, it was a house larger than most of the others, but it was hard to tell since it was surrounded by a sturdy wooden fence. By the gate was a bell and a large sign that said "School." Beneath it was a smaller sign: "Sick Hours: 3 p.m. to 6 p.m."

            "Perhaps we should come back later," Ryosuke said after reading the sign.

            "No, we'll ring the bell now," Daisuke said. "He can tell us to come back, but at least he'll know we're here."

            Orinosuke rang the bell. The sound of students reciting lessons suddenly stopped, and they could hear someone slide open a shoji and walk to the gate. When the gate opened, it was an older student who appeared, not the teacher. The boy hadn't expected to find strangers at the gate, and his mouth hung open in surprise. 

            "Is your sensei in?" Daisuke asked when it appeared that the boy had been rendered speechless. "We are travelers in need of medical help. One of us was injured badly yesterday."

            "Yasujiro-chan, who is it?" a man's voice called out.

            The boy suddenly regained his senses. "Injury—yes!" he sputtered. "One minute please!" 

He shut the gate in their faces. They could hear talking in the background, a small commotion, then a hush as the students all stopped talking. When the gate opened, it was a man of about thirty, a sword in his obi and suspicion written on his face.

            "I am Satoshi, the sensei here," the man said, his arms crossed so that his right hand was just above the hilt of his sword. "What kind of help do you need? My medical hours are not until much later."

            Baiko nudged Kenshin as he noted the position of the man's hand; Kenshin nodded back in acknowledgement. The man seemed to sense a threat.

            Daisuke must have noticed as well, for he now bowed deeply and said, as humbly as he could, "Sensei-san, I am Kawayama Daisuke, head of the Daisuke Kabuki Family of Kagoshima. Our wagon overturned on the road yesterday afternoon, pinning my son's leg underneath and sending an iron hook into his thigh. We managed to bandage him up enough to get here, but it's too serious for us to handle ourselves. If you could at least have a quick look to make sure it's safe to wait that long? He's in the wagon."

            Satoshi looked out at the five men before him. Three looked like samurai, the burly one looked like a soldier, and the short one with the tattered clothing looked like… How unusual—the man had red hair. But he had a sword as well, and the sword's hilt wrappings looked well-worn. What if these men were yakuzas and not who they claimed to be? 

            "You will have to bring him out here," Satoshi finally said. "Then I'll decide." No way would he allow himself to be trapped in that wagon! Daisuke gave him a long look, then started barking orders. 

Satoshi watched as the women and children jumped down from the wagon and the first trunk of costumes was lowered to the ground. Since when did yakuzas travel around with women and children, he wondered? Unless these were hostages… But if they were, then why were they helping the men? And since when were samurai kabuki actors? Unless these were actors _pretending_ to be samurai…. 

Finally, a makeshift stretcher emerged from the wagon, bearing a semi-conscious man with bloody bandages and a splint made of a log on his leg. An elderly woman slid down from the back of the wagon to stand by the man's side, as did one of the younger women, who took the man's hand. A little girl ran up to give the man a kiss as well. No, these were definitely not yakuzas, and Satoshi felt ashamed to have suspected it. It took only a quick look at the man's bloody leg to show that this family had reason to worry about the injury.

"Please, follow me," he said quickly. "You were right not to wait. And please, accept my apologies for being so suspicious. We have had trouble with some samurai yakuzas lately, and not knowing you, I couldn't be sure…."

"No offense taken," Daisuke said. "We are just grateful for any help you can give my son."

Satoshi led them into the school building and motioned for them to set the stretcher on his teacher's desk. As the rest of the family trooped in, he dismissed his students and said quietly to Daisuke, "This probably won't be very pleasant to watch. Perhaps your family should wait outside."

"Not a bad idea," Daisuke agreed. He began shooing everybody out except Ryosuke, Noriko, and Ikuko. He himself left as well, taking Orinosuke with him to find the town elders to get permission for a performance.

With the crowd gone, Satoshi began to look at Ennosuke's leg in earnest. Now he could see clearly the wads of bandage that had been packed into the deep, open wound. That, he knew, should have stopped the bleeding, but clearly it hadn't. In order to see exactly where the bleeding was coming from, he gently spread the wound apart and started to pull out the packing, but he stopped as blood started spurting out. He whistled softly at what he saw and quickly repacked the wound. Turning to Ikuko, he said, "Kawayama-san…."

            "Just call me Ikuko," Ikuko broke in. "What did you find?"

            "Ikuko-san," Satoshi started again, "your son is lucky to be alive." He heard a swift intake of breath from Noriko at his words. "In the thigh is a very large blood vessel, the kind that if it is cut, one could bleed to death in a matter of minutes. Your husband said an iron hook found its way into his thigh. It appears the iron hook nicked that large blood vessel. If you hadn't put in that packing…."

            "He would have bled to death?" Ryosuke finished for him. 

            Satoshi nodded. "Not many people, besides doctors and maybe soldiers, know to pack a wound of this kind. How did you know what to do?"

            "Actually, we didn't," Ryosuke answered. "We do have a former soldier traveling with us as a security guard, but he couldn't get the bleeding to stop. Then suddenly there was this boy—well, not actually a boy, but he looks like one—a traveler who happened by, and he seemed to know exactly what to do."

            "He said he was a druggist once," Noriko added. 

            "He was a soldier once, I'm sure of it," Ikuko commented, remembering the scars she had seen on Kenshin earlier that morning.

            Ryosuke gave her a surprised look. "Him? A soldier? Really?"

            "Trust me, Second Son, he was a soldier some time in his life."

            "Well, whatever he was, he certainly did the right thing," Satoshi said, "and he did an excellent job setting the leg, too. Still, it looks like I'll have to stitch up this blood vessel if we're going to get the bleeding to stop." Then he called out, "Chuyo—bring hot water and bandages!"

As they waited for the water, he retrieved a large wooden box from the back of the room. When he opened it, they saw it contained several vials of herbs and medicines as well as what looked like various implements of torture, including a small saw for amputations.

"You're not going to take his leg off, are you?" Noriko whispered when she saw it. Ennosuke heard that and tried to sit up, groaning in pain as he did. Satoshi pushed him back down gently.

"No, no, nothing like that, onna-san," Satoshi laughed softly. "It's just that this medical box has been with me since I fought in the Bakumatsu—that's where I learned to doctor. It contains everything one would need on a battlefield, which just happens to be everything I need off the battlefield as well. I haven't needed that saw in years, though, thank goodness!"

A small woman suddenly appeared with a steaming pot and an armload of bandages. She bowed shyly, spoke a few words to Satoshi, then stepped quietly to the back of the room and began mixing some herbs for a medicinal tea.

As soon as the tea was brewed, Satoshi propped Ennosuke up and helped him drink it. "It's for pain," he explained. Then he handed Ennosuke a small piece of wood to clamp between his teeth. "This is for the pain you'll feel anyway," he added apologetically.

Then he started readying his surgical tools. They watched as he spread out bowls of hot water and piles of bandages, and then took out a small knife, a needle, and a kind of silk thread. As he carefully removed the bloody bandages from the wound and went to make the first stitch, Ryosuke suddenly said, "I think maybe I'd better go out—let people know he's okay."

They all looked up to find a slightly green man heading quickly for the door.

"He always was a sensitive one," Ikuko commented wryly, "just like his father."

Ryosuke couldn't get outside fast enough. He gratefully breathed in deep lungfuls of fresh air as he unsteadily lowered himself to sit on the edge of the porch. His wife, a plump little woman named Mei, rushed over and quickly felt his forehead.

"Husband, are you sick?" she asked in a bird-like voice. "What about Brother-in-Law?"

Ryosuke shook his head to clear his light-headedness, then said, "Don't worry, anata—you know how I get around blood." 

The other family members had gathered around as well and chuckled knowingly at his comment. He looked up at them, blushing slightly, but then collected himself and said, "Youngest Brother will be fine. The sensei needs to sew up a blood vessel and redo the splint, that's all."  

While Ryosuke had been inside, Mayako and Mei had been setting out a cold lunch for the family. His son Saburo brought him a bowl of cold noodles. As he took it, he looked around the courtyard and said, "Where's Baiko-san and the rurouni? Someone ought to at least tell the rurouni his patient is okay."

"I'll do it," Mayako said coldly. "They're outside guarding the wagon." She quickly got together two bowls of noodles for the men. Then she muttered, "We'll need to buy more food in this god-forsaken little town, what with this extra mouth to feed.  More money down the drain."

"Mayako-chan!" Mei exclaimed. "He did us a great service!"

Mayako shot her sister-in-law a disgusted look. "Service, yes, but feeding another mouth costs money."

She swept out the gate carrying the two bowls and handed them to Baiko and Kenshin. Then, to Kenshin, she said, "I guess you earned this bowl—Ryosuke-kun says my brother-in-law will be fine, which I suppose is due to your help yesterday."

Kenshin bowed deeply and said simply, "Arigato, Kawayama-dono." 

 "That woman gets on my nerves," Baiko commented once Mayako went back through the gate.

Kenshin chuckled as he dipped his chopsticks into the cold noodles. "Baiko-san, if nothing else, I have learned one thing during my wanderings—never turn down a meal, no matter how someone treats you!"

It was not long before Daisuke and Orinosuke returned bearing permission from the town elders to perform. Daisuke left a list of items that would be needed for the performance with Baiko, then went to wait with his family in the courtyard for word from the doctor. Finally, nearly an hour after they had arrived, Satoshi emerged from the schoolhouse.

"My son—how is he?" Daisuke asked as soon as he walked out.

Satoshi smiled. "He'll be just fine. With a little rest and a couple of weeks for that bone to heal, he'll be as good as new. "

"How long?" Orinosuke asked quickly.

"Well," said Satoshi thoughtfully, "he'll need to stay here at least another twenty-four hours to make sure those stitches hold. As for the break, I'd say four to six weeks before he can do anything besides light walking. You'll probably be back in Kagoshima by then."

"Four to six weeks!" Orinosuke repeated.

"It's just like the rurouni told us," Ryosuke noted. "Good thing I asked if he'd fill in for Youngest Brother, ne?"

"It's thanks to that rurouni that your brother is alive at all," Satoshi commented. "If he hadn't packed that wound the way he did, your brother would have bled to death. As for the break, the rurouni did such a good job of setting it that your brother'll probably have no trouble doing all the acrobatics your mother tells me he has to do. If I'd had to reset that bone, that probably wouldn't be the case. Speaking of the rurouni, is he still here? I'd like to meet him, tell him how your brother is doing."

"Himura-san?" Daisuke said. "He's out by the wagon—the short one with the red hair."

The red hair. Yes, Satoshi had noticed that fellow when they had first arrived. There was something about that red hair that seemed to keep niggling at the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite figure out what. He went through the gate to the wagon but saw only the burly soldier, who was helping unload boxes from the wagon.

"Excuse me," Satoshi said to Baiko, "I'm looking for Himura-san."

"That would be him," Baiko said, pointing up to the back of the wagon, where Kenshin had just appeared with another box. "Oi, Himura-san, the sensei wants you."

Kenshin hopped down lightly and bowed. 

"You look awfully young for it," Satoshi started, "but have you had training as a physician? I was impressed that you knew to pack that leg wound. Not many laymen would know what to do for a bleeding artery like that. And the way you set the bone was perfect—I couldn't have done it better myself."

Kenshin wasn't sure how to answer that question. Training? No. Experience with such injuries? Unfortunately, yes. 

"Sessha's…watched," Kenshin finally answered, not mentioning that the watching was sometimes while someone else was treating his own wounds.

"Well, you ought to consider becoming a doctor," said Satoshi. "You've got an obvious talent for it."

Kenshin chuckled at the thought of an ex-hitokiri healing people instead of killing them, but then noticed that Satoshi was staring at him in an odd sort of way. He detected no hostility coming from him, but he became uncomfortable nonetheless.

"Is something the matter, sensei-san?" Kenshin finally asked.

Satoshi shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs from his brain. "You know," he said, "I could swear I know you from somewhere. Have we met before?"

Kenshin tensed. "Sessha thinks not," he answered truthfully.

It was happening again—someone recognizing him. However, he was sure he did not know this man. He had been blessed—or was it cursed—with a nearly photographic memory for faces, and he was sure he had never seen this face before. 

"Were you ever with the Kiheitai?" Satoshi asked after staring some more.

"The Kiheitai?" Kenshin asked in genuine surprise. No one, in the three years since he had started wandering, had ever asked that question!

"That's it! That's where I know you from! Or someone who looks like you, at least. Yeah, that's it! I was with the Kiheitai—it's where I learned doctoring—and a few weeks after I got there, my sensei pointed out this young boy. A little thing he was, with red hair and a sword almost as big himself. He was only there about a week, as I recall—went off to Kyoto with some big Ishin Shishi muckamuck to be a valet or something. Funny thing is, some of the men said it was that little kid who became the Hitokiri Battousai, though I don't believe it. Everyone knows the Hitokiri Battousai was about seven feet tall, and this kid was so tiny… But that couldn't be you anyway. I was told he was thirteen or fourteen back then, though he looked a lot younger than that. That would make him at least twenty-two today. You're what, sixteen or so? No, he'd be much older than you are, I'm sure."

Baiko had sidled over during their conversation and saw a grimness taking over Kenshin's face. Baiko broke into the conversation before anything else could be said.

"You were with the Kiheitai?" he asked Satoshi quickly. "What was someone from Satsuma doing off in Chousu with them?"

Kenshin gave Baiko a look of profound thanks for taking him off the hook.

"Who me?" Satoshi said. He swept his arms wide as he answered, "This whole area was under the control of the samurai family from hell. For generations the Nobu family overtaxed us, stole our crops from us, killed people for the slightest provocation. They were everything that was bad about the old system. Then we heard about Takasugi Shinsaku and his Kiheitai—an army made up of people like us. We're not all that far from Chousu—two day's journey by boat from Miyazaki. We heard they'd train anyone with a fighting spirit how to use a sword and become a fighter to help overthrow the Shogunate. So, a couple of us slipped off one night, got to Chousu, and joined up. Turns out I didn't have much talent with a sword, but they found I did have a talent for doctoring. Everything I know about medicine I learned in the Kiheitai—well, almost everything. Things like women's monthlies and suchlike I had to learn elsewhere."

Baiko turn beet red at that. 

"Oh, sorry," Satoshi laughed. He looked around to speak to Kenshin again, but Kenshin had disappeared. "Say, where'd your friend go?"

Baiko looked around and said, "Beats me. So, did you and your friends come back from the Kiheitai and get rid of that family?"

"No—the daimyo ended up doing that for us," Satoshi answered, now speaking as if he were afraid someone might overhear. "When the head of the family heard the daimyo was siding with the Ishin Shishi, he tried to revolt. Old Shimazu-sama had him dealt with, to our everlasting joy, but the two sons escaped. Now the sons have come back trying to reclaim their land. And now that the new government has cut off the stipends the lower samurai used to get from the Bakufu, these two have become yakuzas. When you showed up in your wagon, I thought maybe you were in cahoots with them. They've been terrorizing the whole area all the way over to Miyazaki."

"We're heading for Miyazaki," Baiko said with concern.

"Well, they were in this area just about a week ago—extorted some money from some of the outlying farmers around here. We've even heard they've killed travelers on the road just to steal their goods, so I'd be real careful, if I were you."

"Thanks for the warning!" Baiko said gratefully.

Baiko watched as Satoshi went back through the gate. Then he started searching for Kenshin. He found him in the wagon sitting on a box, eyes closed and fists clenched. 

"I wasn't that short," Kenshin said quietly when he sensed Baiko's presence, "and that sword fit me just fine."

Baiko swallowed a guffaw. Just the thought of the Hitokiri Battousai as a kid with a sword too big for himself made him want to crack up, but Kenshin was obviously in no mood to laugh. Several moments of uncomfortable silence followed. Then Kenshin got up and started back to work finding the boxes Daisuke had ordered. 

"So," Baiko said as he moved to help him, "the sensei was right—he did know you from the Kiheitai."

Several more moments of silence ensued as Kenshin kept working. Baiko started to think Kenshin had no intention of answering his question, but then Kenshin said, "I was with the Kiheitai for a week, maybe two. I don't think I ever met Satoshi-sensei, although he may have seen me."

He lapsed into silence once again. Then, in a soft voice, he said, "I was young, not much older than Bunjiro—young and idealistic." 

Yet another silence followed before he turned to look at Baiko, a flat look in his eyes that sent shivers down Baiko's spine. "The Bakumatsu," Kenshin said in dead voice, "was no place for a youth with ideals." 

He turned back to his work now in a way that showed he would say nothing further, leaving Baiko to wonder what had caused so much bitterness in such a famous patriot.

**Japanese Terms:** ****

Onnagata: in kabuki, a male actor who plays the female roles.

Bakumatsu: Japanese civil war.

Geta: wooden sandals.

Sessha: 'this unworthy one.'

Kata: the prescribed moves for practicing a martial art.

Yakuzas: gangs of criminals.

Kenjutsu: the art of swordfighting.

Ki: a person's 'aura.'

Ishin Shishi: the anti-shogunate faction during the civil war.

De gozaru yo: an archaic version of 'desu,' usually translated in the manga as "that I am."

Katana: long sword.

Tanto: short dagger.

Onna-dono: literally "Miss Lady."

Gomen nasai: very sorry.

Bokken: wooden practice sword.

Anata: my beloved.

Kiheitai: a private army in Chousu created by Takasugi Shinsaku at the very beginning of the Bakumatsu. It was made up of commoners rather than samurai.

Daimyo: feudal lord.

Shimazu: the daimyo family of Satsuma.

Bakufu: military government of the Shogunate, which was overthrown by the revolution.

**Author's Note: **Well, you can tell that I'm intrigued by how outsiders perceive our hero. After all, here's a short (even by Japanese standards), red-haired tramp in tattered clothes who shows up out of the blue and likes to use archaic language when he speaks. What would _you_ think?! By the way, if you're wondering who the heck Toshiro the monk is, he's just another character from my previous story _Descent into Madness_, not someone from the manga itself.

I must give lots of credit to Co-Conspirator for helping with this chapter. She's done a truly phenomenal job of keeping me from getting too long-winded and too off-the-track, which was awfully easy to have happen with this story. In fact, without Co-Conspirator's constant nagging ("Got any more written yet? Huh? Huh?"), I probably would have given up by this point! Her one complaint—not enough swordfights. So, I will point out to you, dear readers, what I told her: the Bakumatsu is over, this is _supposed_ to be an era of peace (even if it's not quite), so how can there be as many swordfights as in _Descent into Madness_! And no Saitou!! There will, however, be action and plenty of tense moments. And for those of you who hate long chapters, I promise the rest won't be nearly as long as this one!

It's been so long since my in-box had so much mail, so thanks for the reviews! Readers crazy enough to send a review were: Calger 459 and Haku Baikou (my two great inspirations), Bishounen Hunter, BakaBokken, Hitokiri oro-chan, PraiseDivineMercy, Hitokiri Elf slayer of evil, Maeve Riannon, beriath, koe 760, and Shimizu Hitomi. I guess this means I should keep on writing, huh?

**Co-Conspirator's Note: **Holy cow, that's one freakin' long chapter! Ahem, I mean, I think twenty-two pages is our record so far. A long chapter means a lot of character development. Unfortunately, a lot of character development means not a lot of action, but don't worry—please stay with us! Things will get more active soon—we promise! And angst—did I mention angst? Next chapter: The promised angst. Also, Kenshin has a run-in with Orinosuke and learns how to walk like a woman. 


	3. chapter 3

Kenshin starts his onnagata training, but he still can't escape his past.

I can't escape the fact that Watsuki Nobuhiro, Jump Comics, Sony, Viz, and various other conglomerates hold all the copyrights to _Rurouni Kenshin_, not me, so I won't make a dime off my lovely purple prose. Oh, well…

In order to avoid confusion, here's a handy-dandy guide to who's who in the kabuki troupe:

Daisuke: also called Father, Father-in-Law.

Ikuko: also called Mother, Mother-in-Law.

Orinosuke: also called First Son, First Brother.

Ryosuke: also called Second Son, Second Brother.

Ennosuke: also called Youngest Son, Youngest Brother.

****

An Unexpected Lesson

By

Conspirator

Chapter 3

"They're quite talented, aren't they?"

Ikuko was sitting with Kenshin in the courtyard of the doctor's home, watching the men and boys practicing gymanstics stunts, and she was clearly proud of her family. The women, who were the troupe's musicians, had just finished practicing for the afternoon's small performance, and they had come to watch the men do their back handsprings, double flips, and juggling. The children practiced alongside the men, dropping out only when the men went on to something they hadn't learned yet.

"There is no one in all of kabuki who can equal the skill of my husband and sons at acrobatics," Ikuko said admiringly. "Perhaps they could teach you a few things, eh?"

Kenshin chuckled. If only she knew, he thought. Much of what the men were doing was almost identical to some of the leaps and jumps of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. He started to wonder if perhaps the first master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, Hiko Seijuro the First, had once been an acrobat. Or perhaps his own master, Hiko Seijuro the Thirteenth had been. Hiko, of course, had never discussed his own background—he claimed he had sprung fully grown from the head of a god. The men of the Daisuke family did not leap quite as high or spring quite so far as Hiko or Kenshin himself, but then they had no need to. They were in the business of astonishing an audience; practitioners of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu were in the business of keeping themselves alive in a swordfight. Still, watching these men, all of whom were of average height and build, flying through the air only served to remind him of how astounding it was that Hiko, a mountain of a man, could fly even higher and farther, yet land as lightly as a bird. 

He watched the children, too, as they practiced their own handsprings and flips. How different their childhoods were compared to his own, he mused. Young Oda, Ryosuke's four-year-old son, was practicing back walk-overs. Kenshin vaguely remembered when he himself was four. He still had a family then, and it wasn't acrobatics he learned, but farming, at the side of his father. Ryosuke's other son, seven-year-old Saburo, was practicing back handsprings. By that age, Kenshin's family had been long dead, he had been a slave, and he had survived the slaughter of his group by bandits. By the time he was the age of Orinosuke's son Byako, nine, he had already begun his training with Hiko, and by the time he was not much older than Orinosuke's twelve-year-old, Bunjiro, he had…. 

Kenshin squeezed his eyes shut, as if that could stop his thoughts from flowing. What was the use of remembering? By the time he was not much older than Bunjiro, he had become an assassin. He had been a stupid teenager, convinced he could change the world single-handedly with his sword. It was a mistake that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Even here, so far away from Kyoto and the worst of the Bakumatsu, someone had already recognized him and a second one was close to figuring it out. All he wished to do, with whatever remained of his life, was to atone for all the lives he had taken, to bury the memory of the Hitokiri Battousai, but once people found out what he had been, they never thought of him as anything but. 

He was lost in thought when suddenly he heard Bunjiro call out, "Byako, NO!" His head shot up just in time to see Byako launch himself from the top of the well in an attempt to do a double flip. It took only a split second for Kenshin to see that the boy hadn't launched himself with enough power and would end up landing on his head or neck. Without even thinking, he flew across the courtyard faster than the eye could see. Byako was mere inches from hitting the ground when Kenshin managed to grab him around the waist and pull him backward. He fell onto his own back with the boy on top of him and then slid several feet before coming to a stop. When he looked up, he saw Bunjiro and the men running over. Byako turned to look at Kenshin, panic in his eyes as the boy began to realize how close he had come to breaking his neck. Orinosuke arrived only seconds later, to find his son lying on top of Kenshin, crying.

"What the hell are you doing to my son!" Orinosuke roared as he ran over. "Get your hands off of him!" He grabbed Byako's arm and started to pull him up roughly.

"Father! Stop!" Bunjiro cried out. "Byako—he was trying to do a double flip off the well! He almost snapped his neck! If Kenshin-san hadn't…."

"Hadn't what—gotten him into some kind of perverted embrace?!"

Kenshin slowly sat up, now that the weight of Byako was off his chest, to find himself surrounded by Daisuke, Orinosuke, and Ryosuke. 

"Orinosuke-san," Kenshin began, "it's the truth…."

Orinosuke let go of Byako's arm and grabbed Kenshin by the gi. "If I _ever_ find you touching my son again…."

Now Baiko came running through the gate into the courtyard, sword drawn. 

"Who's being attacked?" he yelled as he skidded to a stop. When he saw that Orinosuke had Kenshin by the gi and that Kenshin was not resisting, he did a double-take, then looked around for danger. All he found, though, were the members of the Daisuke family. "What the hell's going on?"

"Baiko-san, you can put that sword away. No one's under attack—except maybe the rurouni here," Daisuke said pointedly.

Orinosuke glared at Daisuke, then at Baiko's sword, then let Kenshin go. "I'd like to know what's going on myself," he said in a dangerous tone of voice.

"I'll tell you what happened," said Ikuko. She glared at her son as she placed herself between him and Kenshin. "Byako knows he's not supposed to do double flips by himself, but he took it upon himself to jump off that well and try it while Bunjiro wasn't looking. Himura-san and I were sitting on the porch talking when we heard Bunjiro yell. I looked up to see that Byako was about to land on his neck. The next thing I knew, Himura-san had caught him. This man saved your son from a terrible accident!"

Orinosuke looked from Kenshin to the porch and back again. "No man can run that fast," he snarled.

"Well, that may be, but that's what he did," countered Ikuko angrily. "The fact is, your son's neck is not broken because this man did something you say no man can do. You owe him an apology, not a fistfight!"

Kenshin had sat through the entire tirade with head bowed, not wanting to get involved in what had apparently turned into a family feud. The anger emanating from Orinosuke's ki was tremendous, and no amount of apologizing would change that fact. 

"Ikuko-dono," Kenshin said softly, "there is no need for that. The boy is safe, nothing else matters."

Orinosuke was visibly having a hard time controlling his anger. He looked over at Byako, who was enfolded in his mother's arms, then at Bunjiro, who looked scared that something terrible was about to happen. He gritted his teeth and gave a stiff partial bow to Kenshin.

"I acknowledge the service you performed for my son," he finally spat out. Then he stalked away.

With the situation now defused, Daisuke extended a hand to help Kenshin up. He found himself surprised at the strength of Kenshin's grip, as well as the power he felt surging through that grip. For someone who looked so slight, such strength was unexpected. He watched as Kenshin dusted himself off, wondering what else there was to learn about this young man. 

"We don't have time for bickering," Daisuke said in a tired voice to his family. "We have a show to put on in less than an hour. Byako, you will not be performing today—you will help your Aunt Mei watch the younger children." 

Byako opened his mouth to protest, but Daisuke sent him a look that immediately shut his mouth. "And young man," he said to Kenshin, who was covered in dirt, "you might want to go clean up."

As everyone headed through the gate to the wagon, Daisuke walked over to Orinosuke, who had been standing some distance away with his arms crossed and his eyes shooting fire. 

"What has gotten into you, First Son?" Daisuke asked with genuine concern.

Orinosuke glared at his father. "You don't see it, do you," he stated in a somewhat patronizing way. "There's something about that boy that isn't right. I don't trust him."

Daisuke watched Kenshin disappear through the gate. He could still feel the surprising strength of Kenshin's grip. 

"I know what you mean—there is something I can't quite put my finger on. But without any other evidence, all I can go by is the man's actions and what my actor's intuition tells me. His actions have all been most honorable—even you would have to admit that. My intuition tells me he has a peaceable heart, that he does not pose a danger to us."

Orinosuke snorted out a bark of a laugh. "Peaceable—that's what you think? He's hiding something from us, I'm sure of it."

"Every man has his secrets," Daisuke retorted. "Even you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Orinosuke snapped.

"You know damn well what I mean, and it's what's really behind that anger of yours," Daisuke snapped back. "We're not moving back to Kyoto, and that's final!"

Daisuke abruptly turned and walked away, leaving an astonished Orinosuke to sputter angrily. In truth, however, Daisuke did think his son had a point. The rurouni did have some kind of secret, and the surprising strength behind Kenshin's grip had unsettled his mind just a little. Daisuke had always prided himself on being able to judge a man's character, and he was positive this stranger was exactly what he seemed—a kind young man who, he guessed, had witnessed some sort of tragedy or maybe had lost his family during the Bakumatsu. But a danger to them? He just didn't feel it. Still, there was definitely something…. Yet when Orinosuke had grabbed the rurouni, the man had put up no resistance. No, this man _was_ peaceable and _not_ a danger to the family. It would be interesting, however, to see what he would be like as an actor, for in the process of acting, he knew from experience, sometimes a man's hidden secrets came to light.

By three o'clock, the wagon had been pulled around to the town's center and colorful flags were waving from poles marking out a large, rectangular performance space. As this was an outdoor performance, no admission fee was charged, but Baiko sat at the entrance to take, and guard, donations. 

Kenshin stayed with the wagon, however. His brown gi now had several new holes in it from the fall he had taken earlier with Byako, and it was in deseparate need of mending. If Ikuko had thought the brown gi was in sorry shape, he could only imagine what she would think of the spare gi he was now wearing! It was the turn of Ryosuke's wife, Mei, to watch the younger children, so he sat with her and half-sewed, half-watched as the men and boys performed a series of spectacular gymnastic stunts, followed by displays of juggling and magic. The women, whose music had accompanied the acrobatics, then performed several popular songs, followed by a story-dance performed by Noriko. Mei, who had been keeping Nomi and Oda occupied, couldn't help but notice what he was doing.

"You're very handy with a needle and thread," she commented in her chirpy voice.

Kenshin chuckled. "A rurouni must know how to do everything for himself, ne?" he replied amiably.

"I suppose, but we were all sad nevertheless that your clothing got torn." 

"The boy's safety was more important than my worn-out gi," he noted as he poked his finger through one of the new holes. He looked over at Byako, who was off to the side, brooding silently. He remembered doing quite a bit of brooding himself when he was that age, usually due to being teased by Hiko. 

Mei sighed deeply. Then she turned to Kenshin with a serious face and said, "Orinosuke-kun is very unhappy right now, and he took it out on you." 

Kenshin looked at her in surprise. It wasn't that he didn't know Orinosuke was unhappy—the man's ki practically screamed it—but that Mei had been so open about telling him. He wasn't used to this kind of candor, and he wasn't sure how to respond. Mei noticed his embarrassment.

"Please forgive me—I've made you uncomfortable," she said apologetically. "Just know that our family _is _happy to have you travel with us, even if some of us may not show it."

The performance was now over, and the family discovered that the audience had been more than generous. Between the amount of actual money taken in and the donations of other items, there was more than enough to keep them in supplies and still make a profit. So, they bought some fresh food at one of the local shops, then headed out of town to find a quiet place to camp. They traveled only fifteen minutes down the road before finding the perfect spot—secluded enough so they could rehearse the next day in privacy, but still not too far from the doctor's home, where Ennosuke was being kept overnight. 

Dinner was a relatively sumptuous affair, with fruits and vegetables and even fish bought in town. The tensions from the afternoon seemed to have vanished, except for a simmering anger Kenshin could still sense coming from Orinosuke. Soon it was time for the children to go to bed, and Kenshin joined Baiko in checking the perimeter of their small encampment before taking their own things to the area near where they had hitched the horse. As they passed by Daisuke's tent, Daisuke called out, "Himura-san—tomorrow you start work."

Kenshin nodded in acknowledgement, but secretly felt a stab of dread in the pit of his stomach. He knew nothing about acting, and certainly nothing about acting like a woman! What ever possessed him to agree to this crazy idea in the first place? But the comfortably full feeling in his belly reminded him. Well, if he could survive a war, certainly he could survive this, he figured!

As they finished the perimeter check, Baiko said, "I think I'd better stand sentry tonight, considering what Satoshi-sensei said this afternoon about yakuzas in the area. You go ahead and turn in."

"We could split the job, if you wish," Kenshin offered. "No sense you staying up all night when there's two of us."

Baiko considered the offer. He had only met Kenshin yesterday, but he seemed trustworthy enough. Anyway, their mutual acquaintance Matsuo had vouched for him.

"Sure," Baiko decided, "why not. You take the first watch—I'll come relieve you sometime around midnight."

With that decided, Kenshin and Baiko started heaping leaves and pine needles for makeshift mattresses and then opened their bedrolls, but they were interrupted as Mayako, Mei, and Noriko came looking for Kenshin. Mayako was holding a green gi in her arms.

"Himura-san," Mayako said, somewhat uncomfortably, "my sisters-in-law and I agreed that it was a shame that your clothing became ripped when you helped my son."

Himura-_san_? Why the change from the curt 'Himura' of earlier in the day, Kenshin wondered?

"We would be honored if you would accept this replacement," she went on as she held the gi out to him. "It's only plain cotton, and it's a bit worn, but it's in better condition than your own."

Kenshin looked down at the spare gi he had changed into earlier so that he could mend his brown one. It was a sickly yellow, and it did tend to make him look jaundiced. Still, he didn't feel right accepting the gi Mayako offered.

"It's my husband's, so it might fit you," Ennosuke's wife Noriko said when she saw that Kenshin made no move to take it. "Please accept it."

Mayako nodded her head in agreement and held the gi out closer to him.

"It is our way of thanking you for what you did for my son," Mayako added.

Kenshin didn't know what to say. He reluctantly took the gi and said, "Sessha is most grateful, Kawayama-dono."

"Just call me Mayako," Mayako said. Then, after a series of formal bows, the women walked back towards the wagon.

"Well, this day has just been full of surprises," Baiko muttered as he watched them leave. "Old Ice Woman actually has a heart!"

Kenshin was holding his new gi somewhat in disbelief. "Sessha knows what you mean," he said in a dazed sort of way. 

He took the new gi and put it carefully into his travel bag; he would wear it tomorrow. Then he took up his sentry post. This day had, indeed, been full of surprises, not least Mayako's change of heart. In truth, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. It made sense that a wife might hold the same beliefs as her husband, so it was no shock that she had been as cold and suspicious as Orinosuke had been. Yet he knew that the incident involving their son Byako had, if anything, made matters worse between himself and Orinosuke. Mayako, on the other hand, seemed to have changed her mind. He shook his head—family politics was strange territory for him. As the night wore on, he found himself too tired to sort it all out, and he was glad when Baiko finally came to relieve him so he could settle down to sleep.

Sleep, for Kenshin, was always a touch-and-go affair, of course. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he would sleep soundly, occasionally even remembering a good dream. More often than not, though, sleep brought only torment in the form of nightmares. So, every night as he closed his eyes, he could only hope that this would be one of the good nights, and at first it seemed that he had gotten his wish. 

As he drifted off to sleep, he found himself thinking of the morning's walk to town, when he had talked with Noriko and the children. And so, as he dreamed, he found himself hearing the sounds of children playing happily. As he looked around in his dream, he realized he was back in Otsu, in the little farmhouse he had shared with Tomoe. She was out on the porch, a tiny smile gracing her face as she watched the children in the yard. He walked out to stand with her and put his arm around her, feeling her nestle against him in contentment. Then he saw that the children in the yard were not just any children, but _their_ children—they had created a family, and they were very happy. 

He was a farmer now, not a soldier, and after placing a peck on her cheek, he went off to check their little vegetable plot of daikons and lettuce. As he walked toward it, he saw, with pride, the beautiful lacy green fronds atop the daikons and the deep green of the lettuce leaves, but as he neared the plot, the green started turning a sickly white. In a panic, he ran to see what was the matter. To his horror, the fronds and leaves suddenly turned into the hands and arms of the dead, all trying to grab him and pull him down. Not believing what his eyes were telling him, he desperately pulled up one of the daikons, only to find that what he had pulled up was not a daikon, but a bloody, severed head. He yelled for Tomoe, but when she appeared, she, too, was covered with blood and pointing accusingly at him. He screamed as he tried to get away from the grasping hands and the bloody vision of Tomoe. He awoke with a start to find himself not in Otsu, but sitting on his bedroll, sweat dripping down his face and his heart racing. He panicked suddenly at the thought that his screams might have awakened the entire camp, but he saw that Baiko had not budged from where he stood sentry. It had all been a dream.

He sat, now, with his head in his arms. What right did he have to think he could ever have a family? What right did he have to think he could ever know such contentment and happiness? No, it would always come back to this—he had been an assassin, he had taken too many lives. It didn't matter whether the cause had been just or not—nothing could change that fact. What was it Ikuko had said when he was trying on those costumes? They were offering to teach him how to bring happiness and joy to people, instead of suffering and death? It was nothing but a joke, another cruel hoax on the part of the gods. When he had been an assassin, the gods would toy with him by offering him hope, then they would gleefully dash that hope to pieces. Now they were doing it again. But he found he couldn't let go of that hope. Now he prayed desperately that what Ikuko had offered to teach, he would be allowed to learn. 

Baiko awoke with a start the next morning as the sun came up. How could he have fallen asleep while on guard duty! Oh, well, if yakuzas had come in the night, he figured, he would have heard them. So he shook the sleep from his eyes, then turned to look back towards the camp, expecting to see Kenshin asleep on his bedroll. Baiko was a light sleeper and was sure he would have heard Kenshin if he had gotten up already, so it was more than a shock to find an empty bedroll and no sign of Kenshin anywhere. Probably the guy was just off doing his business, like the previous morning, but he didn't like the fact that Kenshin had managed to sneak off without him hearing it. One couldn't be too careful these days, and despite Kenshin's seemingly mild demeanor, the man _was_ the infamous Hitokiri Battousai. He quickly assured himself that none of his own things had been touched, then he quietly checked the area around the wagon. After all, Kenshin had had a rather nasty run-in with Orinosuke the day before, and the family had taken in a bit of money at the previous day's performance, but everyone seemed to be breathing and nothing was missing. So why the stealth, he wondered?

He decided not to wait for the rurouni to return. Instead, he headed out towards the stream that ran nearby. Perhaps Kenshin had decided to take a quick bath, despite the morning chill. It was as he was nearing the stream that he heard it—the unmistakable whoosh of a sword slicing through the air. It was coming from near a small grove of trees not far downstream, and as he followed the sound, he could see a glint of silver as the rising sun caught on the sword's blade. He crouched low and crawled as quietly as he could towards the grove, fully expecting to find the yakuzas the townspeople had told him about. Instead, as he got nearer, he saw a flash of red hair flying high in the air. He crawled even closer and held his breath. It was Kenshin—no, the Battousai, he concluded—practicing the most amazing kata he had ever seen in his life. The unbelievable agility of the movements, the godlike speed of the sword, the incredible height of the leaps—never had he seen anything like it. No wonder Kenshin didn't want anyone to know. 

Baiko was mesmerized. He lost track of time as he crouched in the tall grass and watched a display of swordsmanship that seemed to defy the laws of speed and gravity. The kata eventually moved to the final movements that served to slow down the heart and cool the muscles. It was then that Baiko saw Kenshin turn his head slightly in his direction and give a discreet nod to acknowledge his presence. Damn, how could he tell, Baiko wondered? Since there was no point in hiding anymore, Baiko stood up and walked the short distance over to Kenshin just as Kenshin was resheathing his sword.

"A bit early for practice, isn't it," Baiko said, trying to be nonchalant about the display he had just witnessed.

Kenshin shrugged his shoulders. "Couldn't sleep," he answered. "Anyway, I needed that after being dressed up in women's clothes yesterday."

"That bothered you, did it?" Baiko commented as they started back to the campsite.

"It was a rather strange feeling," Kenshin said, smiling slightly.

Having just witnessed the most unbelievable display of swordsmanship he had ever seen, Baiko found the mental picture of Kenshin in woman's clothing more than a little unsettling. What was with this man? With skills like his, he could make a fortune with his sword alone, if not as a soldier, then certainly as a kenjutsu instructor. Men would flock to learn what he did, even in the Meiji era. Instead, he was a penniless wanderer willing to dress up like a woman to earn some free meals? It didn't make sense. 

"So that was the legendary Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, huh?" asked Baiko, hoping to get some kind of explanation from him.

"Aa," Kenshin responded. He was not, as Baiko was finding out, a man of many words.

"I didn't think a human could move that fast," Baiko said. 

"My shishou was faster," Kenshin responded matter-of-factly.

Faster than Kenshin? "But… but… that's not humanly possible!" he sputtered. "Is it?"

Kenshin didn't answer, but there was the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

"Well, I'm sure glad I was never on the receiving end of it," Baiko muttered softly.

"So is this one," Kenshin replied.

By this time, they had reached the edge of the campsite, and the horse was snorting impatiently for his breakfast. Kenshin went to fetch the feedbag and get the oats, then grabbed two buckets to get some water. Baiko picked up two more buckets and joined him as he walked back to the stream.

"So," Baiko said, still trying to make sense of what he had just seen, "you must have studied kenjutsu a long time to get that good."

"Sessha was very young, but yes, you could say that," Kenshin said.

"I didn't learn to use a sword until I was eighteen," Baiko commented. "The Satsuma army taught me."

Kenshin looked at Baiko. He didn't know the man's age, but he could tell it was several years more than his own twenty-one. That meant he must have fought during the Bakumatsu itself.

"You fought for Satsuma even before the Boshin War?" Kenshin asked. 

"Yeah, after Satsuma allied with Chousu against the Shogunate, about two years before Toba Fushimi. I was working on the docks in Kagoshima, and they were looking for recruits. I hated my job and it sounded exciting, so I joined up. Never did learn real kenjutsu. Their theory was that brawn was as good as formal training if you're fighting against an army, and after working on the docks, I had plenty of that. They just taught us the basics of offense and defense and sent us off. I guess they were right, 'cause I'm still alive."

They had reached the stream and filled their buckets and were now heading back again. Silence had once again descended, but now Baiko was in a talkative mood.

"You got any plans?" he finally asked after awhile. "Me, when I get back home, I'm going to become a carpenter, then find a good woman and settle down."

"Weren't you a dockworker?" Kenshin asked amiably as he dodged the initial question.

"Aa," he replied, "but one of my army buddies was a carpenter, and in our spare time he taught me how to make things, like tables and cabinets. Now that the government's abolished that old class system thing, I can do what I want."

"That's true," Kenshin agreed. 

"What about you?" Baiko pressed. He was hoping to get a better idea of what made Kenshin tick. "What do you plan to do?"

"Me?" Kenshin asked. He was clearly uncomfortable with the question.

"Yeah—you don't plan to be a rurouni all your life, do you?"

Kenshin let out a long sigh. "Most likely," he said.

"What? No one _wants_ to wander forever—do they?"

Kenshin stopped walking. "There is no other choice for someone like me," Kenshin answered in a barely audible voice. "It doesn't matter what this one wants."

"But you're a war hero and all!"

Kenshin's eyes flashed gold. "War hero?" he hissed. His eyes locked onto Baiko's with a strange, glowing intensity. "I was an assassin." He spit the last word out with a vehemence that took Baiko aback. 

"But… if it hadn't been for you," Baiko said after he regained his composure, "the new era never would have come—I mean, everybody says so! And anyway, there's not a soldier alive who hasn't killed someone!"

"But I killed in cold blood," Kenshin said in a voice so cold it sent shivers down Baiko's spine. "Hundreds of men lost their lives to my blade. Not just soldiers, but men whose only crime was to support the Shogunate."

"The war's over, though—it's settled! The Ishin Shishi won!" Baiko countered.

"But the desire for revenge never ends," Kenshin retorted. "It's been three years since this one started wandering. Do you know what has happened if someone tries to be kind to me? The revenge-seekers kill them, hoping finally to reach me." At Baiko's shocked expression, Kenshin added, "It's happened more than once. Remember when Daisuke-san offered me this job and sessha worried that it would be dangerous for them if this one accepted? It wasn't because of what sessha might do, but what those seeking me out might do. No, there can be no wife or family for me. My fate was sealed when this one was a young boy, when sessha offered his services to the Chousu. No one can change the past."

Memories of his nightmare came flooding back to him, amplified by the sounds from the campsite, where the children were just now waking up and beginning to chatter among themselves. A wave of intense sadness washed over him as he watched the children receive their good-morning kisses from their parents, as he watched the husbands and wives go about their daily routines. He had had one brief taste of that life, and it had been so sweet. He quickly pushed the thoughts from his mind, but not before Baiko had glimpsed his pain. Baiko couldn't imagine living with such hopelessness.

"Rurouni," he said, "maybe your luck will change, eh?"

Kenshin smiled wanly. "Thanks for the thought."

They had arrived back at the edge of the campsite now, and Kenshin realized that before he brought the buckets in, he had better change into the green gi Mayako had given him the night before. He had to admit that even though he didn't care much about what he wore, he really, really didn't like the sickly yellow gi he currently had on. His brown one, the one he had started mending yesterday, was no great looker, but it was certainly better than this! He decided that if the new green gi worked out, he would burn the yellow one and save the world from ever having to look at its ugliness again!

So, it was with some anticipation that he pulled the green gi from his bag and slipped it on. This had been Ennosuke's gi, so naturally the sleeves hung down below his fingers, but the feel of it was wonderful. It may have been a only a spare gi to Ennosuke, but to Kenshin it felt positively sumptuous, for it was made out of the smoothest cotton he had ever felt—certainly a far cry from the coarse cloth he was used to. There was no time now, though, to hem the sleeves, so he took out the cord he used for tying back his sleeves and tied the sleeves just enough to bring them up to his wrists. Then he picked up his buckets and headed for the campfire and breakfast.

A pot of water was already over the fire when he arrived, and the women were starting to cook noodles and fish for breakfast, so he put the buckets off to the side and offered his help. Ikuko looked approvingly at his new gi.

"Ah, I see you accepted Mayako-chan's peace offering," she said. At Kenshin's questioning look, she added, "The gi."

"Oh!" he stammered. He looked down at the gi as he fingered the material. "This really is too fine for someone like me," he said. "Sessha is most grateful."

"Well, look at it this way," Ikuko said with a devilish glint in her eye. "At least this gi you can wear under your costume—you won't have to change out of your clothes at all!"

She laughed out loud as she watched Kenshin blush at the memory of having to change in front of her the other day.

"Himura-san, you're an unusual young man. I like you," she laughed, and then watched him blush even more. She patted his hand, noting once again how he instinctively seemed to tense at the touch. "In fact," she added, "I'm surprised some young thing hasn't snapped you up yet."

Kenshin's eyes went wide and he suddenly became very still. 

"Did I say something wrong?" Ikuko asked. This reaction she had not expected.

There was a long silence.

"No, Ikuko-dono, you said nothing wrong," Kenshin answered finally. "It's just that sessha had a bad dream last night, that's all."

She watched as he started busying himself with getting out trays and chopsticks for everyone. It must have been some nightmare to suddenly cause the air of sadness that seemed to envelope him now. Yet another mystery to this wanderer, she thought. 

"Well," she said after a moment, "after breakfast, I'll start teaching you how to walk and move like a woman. That should erase any bad dreams from your mind."

There—that had brought at least a hint of a smile to his face, she noted. 

The family was now gathering for their meal, and Baiko waved Kenshin over to sit next to him.

"You're in for a real treat," he said as Kenshin sat down. "I hear the men plan to practice their sword kata right after breakfast. I guarantee you've never seen anything like this!"

"Kata?" Kenshin asked. "What kind of kata do kabuki actors do?"

Baiko started to chuckle. "You want to know why I think these guys would be useless in a real sword fight? You just watch 'em, that's all I can tell you!"

That certainly got Kenshin's curiosity up, so he was glad when Daisuke started hurrying people along to finish their meals quickly. As soon as they were done, the men headed for the wagon and lowered the chest of armaments that had worried Kenshin so much when he had first arrived. It turned out to have some of the most ornate-looking swords Kenshin had ever seen. The hilts shone of silver and gold, and the sheaths were richly decorated with dragons and other mythical beasts. Baiko nudged him, then took one of the swords out of its sheath. Kenshin expected to see as fine a blade as had ever been made, but instead saw only a totally blunt piece of cheap metal. When Baiko laid the sword into his open hands, he could feel the balance was way off. The sword was totally useless. He looked up at Baiko questioningly.

"All fakes," Baiko explained. "They're all props. They play emperors and shoguns and famous samurai, which is why their swords look so fancy, but they're all fakes, and so are their kata."

"Fake kata?"

"Watch," Baiko said.

The men, as well as the older boys, all took their swords and lined up a little ways from the campfire, with Daisuke out front to lead them. Kenshin watched as they began to practice their first swings, which looked like any normal kata from any number of schools of kenjutsu. As they moved into the kata for defensive and offensive moves, however, he saw what Baiko meant. How often had Hiko yelled at him, when he first started learning kenjutsu, for not following through all the way with a particular stroke? But these men purposely stopped in mid-swing! It was almost as if they were afraid to go past the point where their opponent would be standing. What good would that do anyone in a fight, he wondered? Then he realized—fake swords, fake swordsmanship. Of course! They needed to stage a fight, but they didn't want to kill or injure each other. Daisuke had devised kata to teach them only one-half of a sword fight! Daisuke now called out a series of numbers, and the men paired up to do the moves. Sure enough, the katas had been designed so that the opposing swords met up exactly in the middle, making it look like the men were parrying in a real swordfight. He was impressed by the ingenuity of it all. But Baiko was right—if this was all they practiced on a regular basis, they would be useless in a real sword fight, no matter how much real kenjutsu they had been taught. Still, it was fascinating to watch, and he hated to break away when Ikuko came for him.

But come for him she did, and he dreaded what was in store for him. Seeing himself in the mirror in women's clothing had been bad enough. He couldn't imagine what he'd feel like after acting like a woman as well!

"Have you ever watched how a woman walks, Himura-san?" Ikuko asked as they headed for the wagon.

"Is there a difference?" he asked innocently enough.

"A difference? Oh my heavens, yes!" Ikuko laughed. "Why, I didn't think there was a man alive who hasn't watched a good-looking woman walk by! What we women do to attract men! Like swiveling our hips a bit, taking dainty little steps, the way we lower our eyes so modestly…."

Kenshin watched as Ikuko changed her walk from that of a fifty-something-year-old matriarch to that of a coquettish young woman. 

"Have you never noticed any of this before?" she asked as she mimicked a flirtatious girl coyly peeking out from behind a fan of fingers. 

Kenshin turned red. "Um, well, sessha….," he stuttered. Well, of course he noticed girls! He had been married once, hadn't he? "It's just that sessha doesn't exactly stare at them," he managed to say. He was beginning to think Ikuko enjoyed embarrassing him.

"Well, then, I guess it's time you started doing some staring," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

She rummaged through a box in the wagon, drew out a pair of high geta, and handed them to Kenshin. He put them on and tried to walk—and immediately stumbled and fell over. He picked himself up and tried once more, but only got a few steps further before falling again. The problem was that he had never really used geta much, let alone high ones. They were more expensive than zori, and their rigid wooden construction certainly wasn't conducive to achieving the speed needed by a swordsman, so he had never owned any. As he picked himself up yet again, he heard Ryosuke's son Saburo snickering at him. Bunjiro slapped the boy on the head and growled, "Shut up! He saved Byako yesterday, and don't you forget it!" Great, Kenshin thought, now I've got the kids laughing at me.

Ikuko started walking over to him in her high geta, and as she did, Kenshin watched intently. It had never occurred to him to study the way a woman walked. Hiko had taught him to dissect every move, every twitch of an opponent, but of course they were all men. Now he noticed that Ikuko, at least, did move differently. Where a man would stride, she took small steps. Where a man would slide forward in his zori, she moved her feet in a more up-and-down motion. He stood up one more time, this time determined not to fall flat on his face. Ikuko came alongside him and began walking next to him while holding up the hem of her kimono so he could watch her feet. He carefully matched his gait to hers and managed to stay upright. When she stopped, he stopped. When she turned, he turned. When she bent down, he bent down—and immediately fell over.

"No, no, Himura-chan," she said. "Keep those heels on the ground, and don't spread your legs apart! Remember, modesty!"

Modesty? Oh….

After about half an hour, he started getting the hang of it. He followed Ikuko around the campsite like a puppy dog and mimicked her every move. If she reached out to tousle one of the children's heads, he reached out next to himself and copied her gesture. If she stopped to adjust her obi, he pretended to do likewise. He began to notice how she achieved the grace that marked her movements. It was an ease of motion very unlike the muscular movements of men trained as warriors. They were the kinds of motions that brought back memories of a certain woman who had managed so long ago to bring him back from the brink of madness. Why did everything, he wondered, always lead back to Tomoe?

"Himura-chan?" Ikuko said, a worried look on her face.

"Oh! Sorry," he replied, smiling sheepishly. He hadn't realized that he had stopped and was staring off into space. 

"Well, perhaps that's enough of this for now. I think you've got the hang of it, at least enough for the play Ryosuke's revised for you. It's a good one, too—you'll enjoy it."

It was a relief to take the uncomfortable geta off and slip into his familiar zori—it almost felt like he was walking on air. What was it Ryosuke had said when Kenshin first agreed to this crazy plan—that walking in high geta would make him appreciate what women have to go through? Boy, was he ever right!

Ikuko sent him off now to Ryosuke, who looked for all the world like an ancient scribe, surrounded as he was by a mountain of paper covered with calligraphy. 

"Oi, Himura-san—just the person I want to see!" Ryosuke sang out. He held out a sheaf of papers. "You know how to read? I sure hope so, because this is for you."

Kenshin took the papers and flipped through them. "Aa, I can read, but what is this?"

"It's the play you'll be doing. I had to revise it so the other characters say your lines while you do the action. It's _Demons Out, Fortune In_, the one where the widow throws out the demon by throwing roasted soybeans at him—a great favorite at Setsubun time."

"But it's not Setsubun time," Kenshin said.

"I know, but we're doing a command performance for the Shimazu clan at the shrine outside Miyazaki, and they specifically requested this one."

Kenshin finished scanning the sheets and said, "But this only has three characters in it. Why don't you do it with your brother and father? You don't need me."

"Ah, long story," Ryosuke sighed. "The short answer is, we can't bring everyone's whole costume wardrobe in the wagon, only one of us was going to bring the onnagata costumes, and Ennosuke drew the short straw. He's actually becoming quite a good onnagata. Unfortunately, he's laid up, his costumes are too small for the rest of us—you get the picture."

"But throwing things at each other?" Kenshin looked uncomfortable at the prospect.

"It doesn't hurt—you'll see," Ryosuke said, and he led Kenshin off towards the stream to practice.

The two started rehearsing, with Ryosuke demonstrating the stylized movements of kabuki and Kenshin mimicking the motions. Kenshin felt ridiculous at first, but the more he practiced, the more he started to pick up a kind of rhythm to the movements. In fact, it didn't take him long to get the hang of it, except for one thing.

"Too tense, Himura-san, too tense!" Ryosuke cried out in exasperation for about the hundredth time in an hour. "This is a comedy, not a military drill! You're making it look like the dance of the prison guards or something!" And for about the hundredth time in an hour, Kenshin apologized profusely for his inability to appear more relaxed. 

When they finally reached the point of practicing the last scene, Ryosuke carefully explained what was involved in the climactic bean fight. "The widow's scared, she remembers a wandering exorcist had earlier thrown some beans on her floor for warding off demons, and she throws them at the demon. Now, you think you can do that?" 

Kenshin shook his head yes and took a handful of beans, then watched as Ryosuke mimed the actions of a comically frightened woman throwing beans.

"Now," Ryosuke finished, "walk over there a bit and throw them at me."

Kenshin did as he was told and walked away, but as he did, he heard the sound of something whooshing its way through the air towards his back. Without even thinking, he whirled around and, quicker than the eye could see, caught the unknown missiles in his hand. It was three roasted soybeans. His eyes widened as he tried to comprehend what was going on. When he looked up, he saw Ryosuke standing with his jaw hanging open.

"Ryosuke-san, gomen nasai!" Kenshin said quickly as he realized it was only Ryosuke throwing beans at him. "Sessha… it's just that this one heard something coming… it was instinct…." He mentally kicked himself for allowing his reflexes to get the better of him.

Ryosuke managed to regain his senses, but he, too, was having trouble comprehending what had just happened. How could the rurouni have done what he just saw? The man's back was turned, he couldn't have known Ryosuke was throwing the beans, let alone catch them!

"How did you do that?" Ryosuke asked in wonder. "That is undoubtedly one of the finest tricks I've ever seen! An audience would go wild for it!"

Audience? Trick? What was this man talking about! "It's just something I learned from my shishou," Kenshin said, confusion now replacing the look of apology on his face.

Ryosuke walked over to him and picked up the beans. 

"Listen, rurouni," he said, "you are wound up tighter than a top. You've got to lighten up. This bean fight, it's all in fun. You pelt me, I pelt you, we all get a laugh. You've been really quick to learn almost everything you need to play this widow, but the easiest thing—the sense of fun—you just can't seem to get. It's like being a kid again—you know, when you'd put a frog in your brother's futon or something. Didn't you do any of that when you were growing up?"

Kenshin's eyes became inscrutible—even Ryosuke could see the mental wall going up. "Sessha did not really have a childhood," Kenshin said flatly. "Although…." His voice softened, as did his eyes. "I did put some itchy nettle sap on my shishou's fundoshi once—he couldn't walk right for a week. And there was the time I put wasabi powder in his sake…."

"That's the spirit—that's what you need here!" Ryosuke exulted. "Tell you what. I'm going get that sense of fun going in you whether you like it or not, so I'm going to order you to play a prank on someone in the family—today. Then just remember what it feels like to plan it, execute it, and watch it happen. You do that, you'll have the right attitude for this play."

"On your family?" Kenshin gulped. "Sessha couldn't do that—they've been nothing but kind to me!"

"Not everyone, though," Ryosuke pointed out, "so do it to First Brother—Orinosuke."

"What?! But he already doesn't like me!"

"But he'll never know, will he, if you do it right," Ryosuke said with a sly smile. "After all, he still doesn't know who put that frog in his futon, and that was six years ago!"

"But… but…."

Bunjiro was now coming through the grass to call them for lunch.

"No buts, Himura-san," Ryosuke said as he turned to head back to the campsite. "After lunch, Father, First Brother, and I need to rehearse a swordfight, then we go back to the doctor's house to pick up Ennosuke. That's plenty of time to plan and execute a good prank, because after dinner, we'll do a full run-through of your play, and you'll have to have found that sense of humor by then. Meet you back at the wagon!" Then he was off, leaving Kenshin to wonder just how he was going to do what needed to be done. 

After lunch, Kenshin settled himself down against a tree trunk to study his part for the play and ponder what to do about Ryosuke's ridiculous order. Baiko was standing off to the side watching as he practiced the facial expressions and arm movements Ryosuke had taught him. To Baiko, it all looked positively laughable. He finally walked over and kicked Kenshin's foot.

"Hey, woman, you got a tic or something?" Baiko joked as he mimicked Kenshin's flailing movements.

Kenshin leveled a hard glare at him. 

"Come on, just joking!" Baiko said.

Kenshin sighed. "This is no joke, Baiko-san," he said with a pained expression on his face. "Ryosuke-san says sessha needs to find a sense of fun, so he's ordered me to play a prank on Orinosuke-san. This is not a good idea—the man hates this one—but sessha could not convince him of that."

Baiko fingered his chin. "A prank on old sourpuss, eh? Sounds like fun to me, rurouni. Got any ideas?"

"Sessha was hoping you'd help me change his mind."

"Nah, I think it's a _great_ idea!" Baiko laughed. "So, what'll it be? Thorns in his gi? Worms in his tea?"

Kenshin smiled at the suggestions—he had tried them all on Hiko many years ago. Now his mind started working in earnest on the problem. It needed to be something funny but not too obvious, something outrageous but not too cruel, and above all something no one could trace back to him. His smile increased.

"A ginko berry glued to the sole of his zori—that's what this one will do," Kenshin finally declared.

"A what? What'll that do?" Baiko asked.

"Haven't you ever noticed what happens if one steps on a ripe ginko berry?" Kenshin asked. "It smells like dog shit. I smelled some out in that grove of trees near where I practiced my kata this morning."

Suddenly, he was up and walking purposefully towards the stream and the grove of trees, Baiko following along. The smell reached them as they entered the grove, causing Baiko to hold his nose. Kenshin gingerly started walking through, his eyes combing the sparse grass for the berries. He suddenly stopped and held his arm out to prevent Baiko from stepping any further, and he pointed.

"Ginko berries," he said in a whisper. 

He carefully picked one up by the stem and wrapped it in a large leaf. Then, as they passed by a small pine tree, he broke off a large twig that was oozing sap. Thus armed, he and Baiko returned to the campsite to wait for an opportune moment. 

They didn't have to wait long. Not ten minutes after they got back, Orinosuke and his father and brother went to the wagon to get ready to practice their swordfight. The men grabbed their prop swords, slipped off their zoris to put on leather costume boots, then went to find a clear space to practice. Kenshin now scanned the campsite. Noriko was in her tent with Ikuko and Nomi, who was taking a nap. Mei had her two boys with her at the stream to do laundry. Mayako was in her tent with her two sons, who were practicing their calligraphy. There was no one around to be a witness. Now Kenshin moved with the stealth of a cat towards the wagon and quickly grabbed one of Orinosuke's zori. He zipped around to the far side of the wagon, where he would be hidden, and took the pine twig and rubbed its sap on the zori's sole; the ginko berry stuck to it perfectly. Then he replaced the zori and returned to the far side of the campsite. Finally, he grabbed his ripped brown gi and his mending supplies and sat once again against the trunk of a tree, and waited.

The men practiced for nearly an hour before returning to the wagon, but that was okay—Kenshin had long experience at being patient. They put away their swords and took off their boots, chatting all the while. Then they put on their zori and walked off. It only took a few steps before Orinosuke stopped and sniffed. He took another two steps and sniffed again. Then he bent down to look at the soles of his zori. A ginko berry! A scowl slowly made its way over his face as the realization set in—someone had played a trick on him.

"Bunjiro! Get out here!" he yelled angrily at his oldest son. When the boy stuck his head out from the tent, Orinosuke yelled, "You put this ginko berry on my zori, didn't you! I'll tan your hide for this!"

Mayako strode out of the tent at that and said, "What are you talking about? Both boys have been with me for the past hour practicing calligraphy!"

Orinosuke whipped around and was about to yell for Ryosuke's boys but saw they were down at the stream with their mother. He looked over at Baiko, who shrugged his shoulders in ignorance. As for the rurouni, he seemed to be engrossed in mending his gi. Orinosuke glared at Daisuke and Ryosuke, who were now laughing hysterically at the whole situation. Orinosuke growled out a roar, then ripped the zori off his feet and put the costume boots back on before stamping off to the stream to get rid of the offending mess. As soon as he was out of earshot, Baiko and Kenshin joined in the laughter. Ryosuke walked over and said, "Good job, rurouni!"

It was the strangest thing to Kenshin, to hear his own laughter. It took several minutes to bring it under control, but when he did, he felt like a different person. Everything seemed somehow lighter, brighter—the air, the people, himself. It suddenly dawned on him that he couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard and so freely. In fact, he was quite sure he hadn't done so since he left Hiko so many years ago. He felt like he was basking in some kind of new, warm glow, and it felt good. 

****

Japanese Terms:

Ki: a person's 'aura.'

Yakuzas: gangs of criminals.

Kata: the prescribed moves for practicing a martial art.

Kenjutsu: the art of swordsmanship.

Shishou: master teacher of swordsmanship.

Toba Fushimi: the decisive battle in January 1868 that effectively ended the Shogunate.

Aa: Yeah.

Setsubun: Festival of the spring equinox. The tradition at this time is to remove demons and bad luck from one's house in order to let in good luck for the new year.

Fundoshi: man's loincloth.

Wasabi: hot Japanese horseradish.

Zori: Japanese sandals.

****

Author's Note: I have Kenshin wondering why everything always seems to make him think of Tomoe. That's because I figure he never got a proper chance to come to grips with her death. After all, right after she died he had to return to the horrors of the Bakumatsu, and once that was over he had to learn to come to terms with what he had done during the Bakumatsu. And if that's the case, then it doesn't seem out of line to think that it's taken three years before he finds he can actually let go of his grief, if only briefly, and to really, truly let himself laugh and find that it feels good. Our poor rurouni—so consumed with angst that it's stifled his inner prankster all this time! 

Thank you, thank you, reviewers—your encouragement means a lot to me. Now I just hope I can meet all your expectations! Reviewers so far have been: Calger 459, Haku Baikou, Bishounen Hunter, BakaBokken, Hitokiri oro-chan, PraiseDivineMercy, Hitokiri Elf slayer of evil, Maeve Riannon, beriath, koe 760, Shimizu Hitomi, Cattibrie393, Ayumi Ikari, Lucrecia Le Vrai, Audi Daudi, Miranda Crystal-Bearer, and Wistful-Eyes. And to answer a question that popped up a few times, you can blame my worry about long chapters on Co-Conspirator—she's convinced long chapters sap a reader's energy. 

Next chapter: Kenshin learns what it's like to be a lady, and suspicions about his past start to grow.

****

Co-Conspirator's Note: Poor Co-Conspirator—she's swamped with schoolwork and doesn't have time to write comments. Rest assured, however, that her keen eye and ear have had an important impact on this chapter!


	4. chapter 4

It's the moment you've all been waiting for: Kenshin makes his first appearance as an onnagata.

And now the moment all the conglomerates have been waiting for: Jump Comics, Sony, Viz, and probably several others hold all the copyrights to _Rurouni Kenshin_. But even they have to acknowledge that if it weren't for the genius of the ultimate copyright holder, Watsuki Nobuhiro (our hero), none of this would be possible. I, needless to say, own none of it (sob).

Once again, here's a handy-dandy guide to who's who in the kabuki troupe:

Daisuke: also called Father, Father-in-Law.

Ikuko: also called Mother, Mother-in-Law.

Orinosuke: also called First Son, First Brother.

Ryosuke: also called Second Son, Second Brother.

Ennosuke: also called Youngest Son, Youngest Brother.

An Unexpected Lesson

By

Conspirator

Chapter 4

"Papa!"

Three-year-old Nomi was running towards the wagon that was coming into view. Only an hour earlier, Daisuke and Ryosuke had gone to town to bring back her father, Ennosuke, who was recovering from surgery to his broken leg. Now they were back, and Ennosuke was sitting on the front bench with them, a pair of crutches at his side.

"Papa, Papa, Papa!"

A wide smile broke out on Ennosuke's face—he was as happy to see his daughter as she was to see him. Noriko hurried after her daughter and managed to catch her before she reached the wagon. Then she picked the little girl up and held her out to Ennosuke so she could give her father a kiss. Nomi watched impatiently as Daisuke and Ryosuke helped him down and handed him the crutches. He hobbled over to his wife and daughter and gave them both a long hug. 

"Welcome back, Youngest Son!" Ikuko cried out as she hurried forward, followed by the rest of the family. "We've been so worried!"

"I'm fine, Mother," Ennosuke said, "just tired, that's all."

Noriko started to lead him over to their tent, but Nomi was pulling on his kimono for attention.

"You have to meet my new friend," she said. "He's over there."

Ennosuke looked over to where she was pointing and saw Kenshin sitting against a tree, hemming the sleeves of his new gi. Ennosuke said something to Noriko and then turned to slowly follow Nomi over to Kenshin. When Kenshin saw them approaching, he quickly put down his sewing and stood to greet them. He gave a deep, formal bow when they reached him.

"His name is Kenshin-san," Nomi informed her father very solemnly, "and he calls me Nomi-dono!"

Ennosuke smiled and said, "Does he, now?" Then he returned Kenshin's deep bow and said, "Once again, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you did for me. Satoshi-sensei told me that if it hadn't been for your skill in setting my leg, I would probably have a limp for the rest of my life. As it is, he says it'll be as good as new. I will be forever grateful."

Kenshin bowed even deeper. "Sessha is glad to have been of service." 

Kenshin now had his first chance to really see the man he had helped. There was a strong family resemblance, but Ennosuke was definitely shorter and built somewhat thinner than his father and brothers. He looked to be not much older than Kenshin—perhaps Baiko's age—and Kenshin could see very clearly that he was happy to see his wife and daughter again. He could also see that Ennosuke was pale and tired, so he leaned over to Nomi and whispered, "Perhaps you should take your father back to your tent and let him take a good nap."

"Come, Papa," Nomi said, and she started skipping back as Noriko and Ikuko helped him follow.

Kenshin went to pick up his sewing again, but Daisuke stopped him. 

"Himura-san," he said, "this is a little sooner than I had planned, but your first performance will be tomorrow morning." 

"Tomorrow morning?"

"Aa. When I went to pay Satoshi-sensei, he asked if we would be willing to give an actual kabuki performance for the town instead of paying him for his services. I was somewhat surprised by the request, but when I thought about it, it seemed like a good idea. This way, you could get those first-performance jitters out of your system right here, get a feel for what it's like to perform in front of an audience. Otherwise, your first performance would be in front of the Shimazu clan, in three days' time. Second Son agreed with me. So we're going to put up the portable stage right away and get out all the props—that should take us about forty-five minutes or so. Then we'll all put on our costumes and makeup and rehearse so you'll know exactly what everything will look like and feel like. I figure if we hold off dinner until late, we can get in about three hours' worth of rehearsing before the light gives out."

So, the moment of truth had come, Kenshin thought with dread—they were going to do him up in a full costume. He had practically climbed out of his skin just putting on the chest-piece and kimono. What would happen when they decked him out in a wig and makeup, too?! Well, no sense putting it off, but there was one thing he needed to be sure of.

"Sessha would prefer no mirrors," he said quietly.

Daisuke burst out laughing. "Agreed!" he said as he pounded Kenshin heartily on the back.

Despite his offer to help set up the stage, Kenshin was told instead to practice the movements he had been taught earlier that afternoon, as well as walking on the high geta. So, he took the geta and headed towards the stream, where he figured he could practice—and fall, in all likelihood—away from prying eyes. When he got there, though, he found that Bunjiro had already staked out the area as his. Bunjiro had one of the fake swords and was half-practicing the kabuki sword kata and half-play-acting at being a samurai. Kenshin nodded to the boy, then put on the high geta and started practicing the kata he had invented for himself to learn to move like a woman. Bunjiro stopped briefly to watch him, then went back to swinging his sword. After a few minutes, he said, "Kenshin-san, you know how to use a sword, right?" 

"Aa," Kenshin replied as he teetered along in his high geta.

"Could you show me how to do a real swing with a sword?"

Kenshin smiled. He had been watching Bunjiro make wild parries and thrusts and found it highly amusing, although he never would have said so. He bent down to remove the geta and walked over to the boy, standing behind him and reaching around to grasp his hands.

"First you must hold the sword like this," Kenshin said as he corrected Bunjiro's grip. "Then you swing like this." 

He helped Bunjiro do a few simple diagonal swings, then stood back to let the boy try on his own. Bunjiro caught on quickly.

"You know, I get to start real kenjutsu lessons when we get back to Kagoshima," Bunjiro said enthusiastically as he practiced his new skill. "It's Kogen Itto-ryu, the one my father learned, and all my uncles, too."

"It's a good style," Kenshin said as he stepped in to correct Bunjiro's technique.

"Were you a soldier like Baiko-san?" Bunjiro asked as he continued to practice.

"Sort of," Kenshin answered. 

"Which side did you fight on?" Bunjiro asked.

"Imperial," Kenshin replied.

"Good! They were the good guys," It was said with all the certainty of a twelve-year-old. "You know why they were the good guys, don't you? 'Cause the new government says we don't have to be the same thing our parents are—we can be anything we want! And I don't want to be an actor like my father—I want to be a soldier and kill off all the bad guys and be a hero, just like in our plays!"

Suddenly Kenshin grabbed the sword's dull blade in mid-swing, causing Bunjiro to yelp in surprise.

"You don't understand what you're saying." Kenshin's voice had turned cold, but there was fire in his eyes. Bunjiro gasped. "You don't know what it's like to kill—to see the light go out of a man's eyes as he dies, to see his life's blood drain away. It's not like one of your plays, where a man dies and then picks himself up to play another day! When a man dies, it's forever! Listen to your father—be an actor. Don't make a mistake you will regret for the rest of your life."

Kenshin pushed the sword away, then turned quickly and walked back to where his geta lay in the grass. Bunjiro stood shaken and speechless from the encounter. Kenshin could feel the boy's confusion and fear. He kicked himself mentally for having scared the boy so much, but Bunjiro needed to hear those truths sooner rather than later. 

"We probably should be heading back," Bunjiro said in a subdued voice. "They've probably got the stage set up by now"

"Probably," Kenshin agreed.

The two started walking back towards the campsite in complete silence.

"Bunjiro-san," Kenshin said, breaking the awkward quiet between them, "sessha hopes you do get to study kenjutsu when you return home. You will enjoy it, and you will be good at it. Just remember never to dishonor its teachings."

Bunjiro looked over at Kenshin, life springing back into his eyes. "Hai, Kenshin-san! I'll remember!" And he ran the rest of the way back to the campfire.

When Kenshin reached the campsite, he saw that it had been totally transformed. Instead of just a clearing with a wagon, campfire, and a few tents, there was a large, raised wooden platform with a long ramp at the back leading to one of the tents. The platform itself looked like someone had cut the side wall off a house, for it seemed as if one could look right into a living room and kitchen, complete with the usual items that any normal home might contain. There was a small decorated screen, two futons folded neatly in a corner, a small shrine in honor of ancestors, a hearth with a pot hanging over a fake flame, and a small table set for dinner. He expected at any moment that someone would walk right in and stir the kettle. He stood gawking until he felt a light tap on his arm. It was Ikuko.

"You like our stage?" she asked.

"It looks so real," he said in awe.

"And you will look real, too, Himura-san, as soon as we get you made up and in your costume," she smiled. "Come with me." 

She led him over to the wagon and motioned him in, then sat him down on a bench.

"Now, Himura-san, I know you aren't used to being touched this way, but I'm going to have to rub your face and eyelids with white makeup," she began.

Kenshin appreciated the warning. He knew she had noticed him tense every time she had occasion to touch him before—he hoped she didn't know _why_ he tensed—so he made a concerted effort not to tense this time, but it wasn't easy. If nothing else, his years of fighting had taught him that it was dangerous to let anyone touch him; it wasn't an easy habit to break. 

Ikuko had been rummaging for what she needed and now returned to Kenshin bearing several pots of makeup. She found him sitting ramrod straight and stiff as a tree trunk, his eyes squeezed shut as if steeling himself for a blow.

"Himura-san," she whispered somewhat theatrically, "it's just my fingers I'll be using, not a sword, you know."

He opened his eyes slightly to see her holding out hands full of white goo. Before he could do anything to stop her, she quickly put a glob of makeup on each of his cheeks and started rubbing. He was startled to find that the makeup felt rather cold. He sat as still as he could while Ikuko deftly spread the goo all over his face, neck, and eyelids, spending a bit of extra time where his X-shaped scar was. Then she took a black stick of what looked like charcoal, ran a brush across it, and started painting over his eyebrows, then around his eyes. 

"You're doing fine, Himura-san," she said when he flinched from the brush. No one had ever gotten that close to his eyes—ever—and he hoped no one ever did again!

She was about to dip another brush into a pot of red when Orinosuke suddenly burst in, his eyes raging in anger.

"What have you been telling my son?" he bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at Kenshin. He looked ready to haul Kenshin up by his gi again and punch him out.

"First Son, what on earth are you doing?!" yelled a startled Ikuko. She was helpless to stop his onslaught, burdened as she was with a paintbrush and paint pot in her hands.

"Shut up, Mother, this is between the two of us! It's bad enough my oldest son thinks he can go be a soldier, but to have you filling his head with some kind of claptrap about kenjutsu…how dare you! I won't have you interfering where you don't belong!"

"Orinosuke-san," Kenshin interrupted, "I told him to listen to his father and become an actor."

"What?"

"Your son told me how he wanted to learn kenjutsu and become a soldier," Kenshin continued as calmly as he could. "I told him to enjoy the kenjutsu, but that he should listen to his father and become an actor, that's all."

Orinosuke was in such a rage he could barely process what he heard. He glared at Kenshin and Ikuko, and clenched and unclenched his hands as if ready to punch them both out. He'd be damned if he'd be deterred by what Kenshin had just said!

"Just stay away from my children," he bellowed menacingly, "or I will have you thrown out on the road!" 

All this time, his wife Mayako had been standing outside, yelling, "Husband, stop!" That brought Daisuke running, his makeup only partially applied and his hair disheveled. Baiko and Ryosuke were right behind him. They arrived just as Orinosuke stormed out of the wagon. Daisuke grabbed him and spun him around.

"What do you think you're doing?" Daisuke shouted. "Who are you threatening? What the hell is going on here?"

Ikuko stuck her head out the back of the wagon, her face contorted in rage. "He told me to shut up," she said, her voice shaking in anger. "My own son told me to shut up! I won't have it, I tell you!"

The yelling and screaming continued outside even after she turned back to the wagon. When she did, she found Kenshin holding his head in his hands, and when he looked up, it was with eyes full of hurt. He usually did such an excellent job of hiding his emotions that she had not realized until now how expressive his eyes really were. 

"Ikuko-dono," Kenshin said softly, "perhaps it would be best for this one to leave right away. Sessha does not want to be the cause of such distress to your family." 

"No, you will stay," she said firmly. "You may be the lightning rod, but you're not the cause of the lightning. This is something that's been brewing for months, ever since First Son found out his father does not intend to move back to Kyoto. That's what First Son thought we would be doing this summer—moving back. When he found out we would be touring as usual, he exploded. Seems he's been holding in a lot of anger since we left Kyoto seven years ago."

She picked up her red paint pot and brush and proceeded to paint Kenshin's lips.

"He was twenty-three when we left Kyoto, you see, and he had already started to gain quite a reputation as a dramatic actor. He had already married Mayako, who was from one of the most prominent kabuki families in the city—a match anyone would envy—and he fully expected his life to play out just as his father's had. But it was the Year of the Rat, what they call 1864, and Kyoto was in chaos. You're probably too young to remember, but back then Kyoto was being terrorized by hitokiri who struck without warning and by those vicious Shinsengumi thugs, who thought nothing of slaughtering people first and asking questions later. Our audiences became too afraid to go out to the theater; it was hard to keep afloat. That's when we got the offer from the daimyo of Satsuma to move to Kagoshima. Seems one of his top aides had secretly attended several of our performances and was really taken by what he saw. After the Ikedaya incident, we decided it was time to leave, so we took him up on the offer. First Son was devastated, but he understood the need to leave. Within a week, we were gone. Husband has always promised we would return to Kyoto when the war was over, and certainly once the Boshin War was settled, but we've been so successful in Kagoshima that he sees no reason to return. Orinosuke is bitter."

Too young to remember? That was a laugh. If only it were possible _not_ to remember! It tore at his heart to know that _he_ had been one of the reasons this family had had to flee Kyoto. There were only a handful of hitokiri in Kyoto that year, but most did not live more than a few months. It was only the Hitokiri Battousai—_him_—who had lasted long enough to cause so much terror. He had always known that what he did brought anguish to those who were members of his victims' families, but it had never occurred to him that what he did might have harmed countless others by depriving them of their livelihoods. Ikuko could sense the despair that was overtaking him, but she mistook it for pity for her family.

"Oh, don't feel sorry for us," she said as she started to wrap a wide strip of cloth around his hair. "We've done quite well in Kagoshima, and our other sons seem quite happy. Why, Second Son—if he can perform and have people enjoy it, that's all he wants from life. Youngest Son—Kagoshima is really all he's known professionally, so he's happy there as well. But First Son? He's gone back to Kyoto a few times to perform with Mayako's family as an honored guest performer, just to make sure his fame in Kyoto is not forgotten. That family never had sons, and they want him to move back and become their lead actor, even take the most revered name of that family, but he cannot cross his father. Here, let's put that wig on now."

She opened the box of wigs and picked out one that had the hair piled high in a bun. It wasn't too elaborate, but it became more so as she added a few ornate hair pins. She placed it on Kenshin's head and tightened some strings to make it fit snugly. To him, it felt like someone had placed several pounds of something unstable on his head.

"There," she said, cocking her head to one side, "now you look like a proper homemaker!"

If nothing else, having the wig placed on his head served to banish his self-loathing from his mind, for he now had something else to concern him—as he turned his head this way and that, he felt like the wig was going to fall off. When he stood, he felt so top-heavy he almost lost his balance on the high geta.

"Sessha is not sure if walking is possible with this wig!" Kenshin said as he stood unsteadily to start putting on the costume kimono.

"Oh, you'll get used to it," Ikuko said. "Just remember to always keep your chin up, that's all."

Chin up, eh? Now he knew why he heard mothers tell their daughters that all the time—so they wouldn't tip over from the weight on their heads! 

It was time to put on the kimono, so he removed his sakabatou from his obi and placed it carefully on a side bench. It didn't matter that he now looked two-thirds like a woman. Removing the sakabatou from his belt still left him feeling unsettled and somehow naked, although he knew he could not proceed with it on. Ikuko handed him the chest-piece and then the kimono—no going back on this now, he thought. At least she was being true to her word—with his new green gi on, she was not requiring him to strip and put on a separate underkimono, for which he was very grateful. He put both on, then held his arms up so that Ikuko could wrap and tie an obi around him. He was finally entirely dressed and ready to rehearse. 

The commotion, he noticed, had died down outside the wagon. That was a relief, for there was no way he could deal with Orinosuke's anger dressed as he was. The commotion had been replaced, however, by a massing of the entire family to witness the debut of their new onnagata. As he emerged, the children clapped and the women murmured "Perfect!" He was highly embarrassed. Then Ryosuke, whose face had been made up to look like a frightening demon, stepped forward to offer his arm.

"Onna-san," he said with a formal low bow, "allow me," and he began to help Kenshin down from the wagon as if Kenshin were a real woman.

"Ryosuke-san, please!" Kenshin whispered as he attempted to push Ryosuke's hand away. "Really, sessha can manage on his own!" Although, truth be told, he did need the help, what with those unstable high geta he was wearing.

"Ah, but Himura-san," Ryosuke retorted in a similar whisper, "you are a lady now. Whatever you do while in your costume you must do as a lady."

"Everything?!" Kenshin asked in a somewhat panicked-sounding voice.

"Well, almost everything," Ryosuke answered with a twinkle in his eye. He handed Kenshin a fan. "Here, use this. It's what the ladies use to help hide their embarrassment." 

Kenshin was now safely on the ground but wishing he were anywhere but. A fan? How the hell was he supposed to use that? He whipped it open in the only way he knew, which was the way he had once seen Serizawa Kamo, the Shinsengumi captain, do with his feared, lethal iron fan.

"Oh, and Himura-san?" Ryosuke said as he tried to hold in his laughter, "it's supposed to be used gently, not like a weapon."

Kenshin looked around at the family and saw they were also trying hard not to laugh. Ryosuke was now miming the way a woman would open and use her fan, so he quickly copied the gestures and hid his face.

"Excellent," Ryosuke said enthusiastically. "Now, as soon as Father is done putting on his make-up, we'll get started."

When Baiko saw that the two were making no move to start rehearsing yet, he hurried over to Kenshin and whispered, "Could I have a private word with you—onna-san?"

"Not you, too," Kenshin groaned.

Baiko ignored his comment and grabbed him by the elbow to lead him away from the others. He was clearly agitated.

"Listen, Himura, I found Orinosuke-san going through your things a little while ago," he said in a voice only Kenshin could hear. "He's convinced there's something dangerous about you, and he seems determined to find out what it is."

Kenshin was suddenly on alert. His eyes darted over to where Orinosuke was standing, arguing with his wife. 

"Did he find what he was looking for?" Kenshin asked.

"Well, of course not—you don't have anything worthwhile in that bag of yours!" At Kenshin's surprised look, Baiko added, "I had to look through your stuff when you first came—while Ennosuke-san's leg was still stuck under the wagon. I mean, we had to know right off the bat what kind of man we were dealing with, didn't we?"

Kenshin tried to swallow the anger he felt mounting within him. He respected others' belongings and felt somewhat violated that his had been searched, though he could understand why Baiko had done so. Orinosuke, on the other hand, was a different matter altogether.

"Baiko-san, thank you for warning this one," Kenshin finally said tensely. "Sessha has found out what lies at the heart of his anger, but why he has targeted this one remains a mystery."

"Just be careful around him," Baiko said. Then, with a sly smile, he added, "Especially in your condition."

"My condi—what?!"

Baiko started chuckling uncontrollably. "Do you know how stupid I feel talking to you-know-who when he looks for all the world like some ditzy woman?"

Kenshin whipped out his fan, but not in the feminine manner, causing Baiko to take a hasty step back.

"A Shinsengumi captain's killing technique," Kenshin said pointedly; then just as quickly he snapped the fan closed.

He gingerly walked back to the stage, managing to make it without falling or turning his ankle. Daisuke was ready and waiting and so too, Kenshin noted with apprehension, was Orinosuke. He was sitting on the ground, arms crossed and eyes glaring, waiting to criticize the result of not only Kenshin's performance, but the whole rewriting process as well. There was no way they could teach Kenshin the highly stylized way kabuki actors spoke their lines. Instead, they had transferred his lines to Daisuke's character, the exorcist, who would deliver them while watching the action from the sidelines. They were relying on Orinosuke to tell them if the change worked.

The first run-through was difficult. Kenshin knew what he had to do, but combining it with using props and remembering to move like a woman proved to be a daunting task. Ryosuke kept whispering, "Too tense, Himura, too tense!," and Orinosuke kept shouting corrections and suggestions that made his head spin. Even the bean-throwing scene at the end, which was supposed to be fun, seemed filled with tension. It had taken forty-five minutes to rehearse the twenty-minute play, but to Kenshin it seemed like hours. When he looked out at Orinosuke, the man was shaking his head in disgust.

Daisuke and Orinosuke started cleaning up the stage and setting it up to rehearse again. While they did, Ryosuke took Kenshin aside and said, "What happened to that sense of fun you had this afternoon?"

Kenshin looked at him like he was crazy. "Ryosuke-san, between the wig and the high geta, sessha is just glad to stay upright!"

"There was a reason I ordered you to play that practical joke, you know," Ryosuke said. "Remember how you felt when you planned it? Remember how you felt while you waited for Orinosuke to fall into your trap? Remember how you felt when he stepped into his zori? That's how you need to feel as you do this play."

Kenshin had started smiling with Ryosuke's first question, and the smile had continued to grow with every word until he found himself chuckling. It had been so long since he had done something as lighthearted as playing a practical joke on someone, and it _had _been rather amusing to watch Orinosuke's reaction to those first sniffs of squashed ginko berry. But more than that, he remembered how wonderful it felt to laugh again. It was a feeling he was determined not to lose ever again. He looked at Ryosuke with renewed respect—this man was far wiser than he had given him credit for.

The second run-through was much more satisfactory. Kenshin started to find the fun in acting the part of the widow. He no longer needed to use his senses to predict what Ryosuke's character would do—he knew from practice. So, he started finding ways to tease Ryosuke while still adhering to the script of the play. Ryosuke seemed surprised at first, but he was clearly delighted with what Kenshin did. This time the bean-throwing scene had the air of fun it was intended to have, with Ryosuke throwing some of the beans at Kenshin, and Kenshin catching them and throwing them back as he had accidently done earlier that afternoon. When he looked out at Orinosuke at the end, the angry glare was gone, replaced by a grudgingly positive look.

Music was added to the third run-through, and the entire family came to watch. To Kenshin, however, it didn't matter. He found himself as totally focused on the play as he would have been in a swordfight. This time Ryosuke gave as good as he got, teasing Kenshin throughout the play and particularly during the bean-throwing scene. He decided to surprise Kenshin this time by throwing some beans with one hand while rolling others towards him on the floor. Kenshin hadn't expected this, and because he still was not an expert at walking or running on the high geta, he slipped and suddenly found himself on his rump, arms and legs akimbo. 

"Oro!" he cried out in surprise.

Oro? Where the hell did that come from, he wondered! Why, he hadn't uttered that word since…. since Hiko managed to push him into a mud puddle during a sparring practice! It was shortly before Kenshin had left the mountain for good, and he remembered with satisfaction that Hiko had had great difficulty defeating him. He quickly brought his mind back to the present, however, and scooping up a handful of beans, he threw them with the godlike speed of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu at the laughing Ryosuke. The 'demon' was vanquished in the hail of beans, and the play was done. Applause broke out from the family.

Daisuke rushed up and started pounding Kenshin on the back, saying, "Brilliant, Himura-san, brilliant! Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you had experience doing this kind of thing!""

"Great job!" enthused Ryosuke. "I couldn't have done it better myself." Then he turned to Orinosuke, who had come up onto the stage. "What do you think, First Brother?"

Orinosuke had his arms crossed and a frown on his face. "At least he won't be an embarrassment," was all he would say. Then he walked off to start putting the props away.

For the second time that day, Kenshin felt the warm glow that came from laughing, from having a light heart. He was still somewhat stunned by that 'oro'—a word from his days of innocence, a word he hadn't even thought of in perhaps eight years. What was happening to him! He went off to the wagon to take off his costume and make-up and was surprised to find he didn't even flinch when Ikuko came to wipe off his make-up. Still, it was with great relief that he picked up his sakabatou and slipped it into his belt. Yet even this he seemed to do with a lighter heart. He felt a tiny smile creeping across his face.

Meanwhile, Daisuke and Ryosuke helped clear the stage and then retired to the tent attached at the rear to remove their costumes and makeup. As he took off his wig, Daisuke said, "Well, that certainly went better than I expected. The rurouni seems to have a knack for comedy."

"Uh-huh," Ryosuke replied as he started wiping make-up off his face.

The two continued on in silence for awhile. Then Daisuke said, "You've spent more time with the rurouni than any of us. What do you make of him?"

Ryosuke stopped in mid-wipe and thought.

"You know, I'm not sure," he answered. "He's very serious, very focused—a quick study, that's for sure—but…. You know, this afternoon when we first started practicing, he was so tense I had to keep telling him to lighten up, which he seemed totally unable to do. So when we got around to the bean-throwing scene, I thought I'd just throw a few beans at his back while he was walking away from me—you know, see if I could at least goad him into a good food fight, so to speak—and…. Well, it was the most amazing thing. He couldn't have known I was throwing the beans because his back was to me, but suddenly he whirled around and snatched the damned things right out of the air! I mean, he was so fast my eye couldn't even take it in! What a skill—audiences would love it! And you know what he does? He apologizes! Says, 'I'm sorry, it was instinct!'"

"Instinct, huh? He sensed the beans coming?" Daisuke turned this over in his mind. "Anything else?"

"Well, he said it was something his shishou taught him. 'Shishou'—isn't that the old-fashioned term for a master teacher of kenjutsu?"

"Aa, I believe you're right," Daisuke said. "So, the rurouni is trained in kenjutsu. Well, that would explain a lot. Your mother is convinced he was a soldier once, and advanced kenjutsu teaches a swordsman how to sense an opponent's ki. It all makes sense."

They continued wiping off their make-up and changing their clothes. Then Daisuke said, "Your brother is convinced he's a dangerous man. He's not often wrong."

Ryosuke snorted. "You need to let First Brother leave for Kyoto."

"Hmph," Daisuke muttered. Then, "You didn't answer my question."

Ryosuke sighed. "Dangerous? Well, who knows what's in his background, but I can tell you the boys love him—he's taught them to search for birds and such in the trees. Mei is thrilled. And little Nomi—did you see her today? She practically climbed into his lap this afternoon. Kids can sense these things. You think they're sensing he's dangerous?"

"And you?"

"Me?" Ryosuke said. "You know, the hilt of that sword he's got is pretty well-worn, and despite all his 'sessha's,' there's an air of self-assurance about him—you can see it in the way he carries himself. Does that mean he's dangerous? Maybe confident of his abilities would be more like it. But how he uses those abilities? He seems anxious to hide them, if you ask me."

"Hmph," Daisuke muttered again. "Well, we'd best still keep an eye on him, I suppose."

"Hmph," Ryosuke agreed.

****

Japanese Terms:

Aa: Yeah.

Shimazu clan: the Shimazu family had been the daimyos of Satsuma for nearly three hundred years.

Geta: wooden sandal.

Kata: prescribed moves of a martial art.

Kenjutsu: art of swordsmanship.

Daimyo: a feudal lord.

Boshin War: a rebellion against the new government that raged from 1868-1869, primarily in Aizu and Hokkaido.

Onnagata: in kabuki, a man who plays the women's roles.

Onna-san: literally, Miss Lady.

Zori: Japanese sandals.

Ki: a person's 'aura.'

Sessha: in case you've forgotten, it means something like "this unworthy one."

****

Author's Note: Well, obviously this chapter is quite a bit shorter than the last two. No real reason for that, it just worked out that way (sorry to all of you who love long chapters!). 

Two quick notes about kabuki theater practices. Apparently, in traditional kabuki productions, few or no stage props are used other than a stylized backdrop. Unfortunately, I read that _after_ I concocted this story, and I needed to have some props, etc., to help the plot along. So, let's just assume that Daisuke is not exactly a strict traditionalist (same goes for the kimono—Calger-san is right about that, but I'm figuring that actors needing to do quick changes don't have time to do all the folding needed to make a long kimono shorter). Also a quick comment about the possibility that Kenshin actually saw Serizawa Kamo. By my calculations, Kenshin arrived in Kyoto sometime in the summer of 1863; Serizawa was killed in September 1863. So, it is possible that Kenshin could have seen him during his first few months in Kyoto.

So, Kenshin has found his 'oro.' It made sense to me that the 'oro' was something from his childhood that had basically been lost during his years as a hitokiri. Now that he's slowly coming back to life, his 'oro' has managed to resurface—an indication that perhaps he's starting to recover from a really severe case of post-traumatic stress syndrome. No matter how much he changes, though, he can never quite hide his past—not from Bunjiro, not from Daisuke and Ryosuke, and certainly not from Orinosuke. How will that all play out? Read the next chapter, for the noose tightens (so to speak).

Thanks one and all for your reviews! Believe it or not, I hold my breath whenever I see those fearful words "[FanFiction.Net] Review Alert!" because I'm always afraid of what I might find. All of you, however, have been so supportive! My gratitude to you all: Calger 459, Haku Baikou, Bishounen Hunter, BakaBokken (what, we have to wait until June?), Hitokiri oro-chan, PraiseDivineMercy, Hitokiri Elf slayer of evil, Maeve Riannon, beriath, koe 760, Shimizu Hitomi, Cattibrie393, Ayumi Ikari, Lucrecia Le Vrai, Audi Daudi, Miranda Crystal-Bearer, Wistful-Eyes, ESP, Arcueid, and Corran Nackatori.

****

Co-Conspirator's Note: Once again, Co-C. is swamped with work, but she did have time to threaten me with a good Kuzu Ryu Sen if I didn't tighten up a few essential passages. Of course, I was ready to do the same to her when I caught her laughing hysterically at some of the more angsty parts of this chapter. What I put up with… !


	5. chapter 5

Kenshin's debut as an onnagata causes an unusual reaction, and Orinosuke comes perilously close to the truth.

The truth about who owns _Rurouni Kenshin_ is that (sob) it's not me. Copyright belongs to Watsuki Nobuhiro (all hail Watsuki!), Sony, Jump, Viz, and probably countless others, to whom I would bow and scrape if they ever animated the _real_ Jinchuu arc.

Once again, here's a handy-dandy guide to who's who in the kabuki troupe:

Daisuke: also called Father, Father-in-Law.

Ikuko: also called Mother, Mother-in-Law.

Orinosuke: also called First Son, First Brother.

Ryosuke: also called Second Son, Second Brother.

Ennosuke: also called Youngest Son, Youngest Brother.

An Unexpected Lesson

By

Conspirator

Chapter 5

The day dawned crisp and clear, perfect for an outdoor performance. Kenshin was thankful for that because he didn't need any extra distractions, like rain or thunder, for his first time on stage. He was thankful as well that he had slept relatively soundly. He appeared to have had one of those rare nights free from the usual hellish nightmares. Maybe being an actor was a good antidote, he thought wryly.

As they had the night before, Kenshin and Baiko had split the night watch, with Kenshin taking the first shift and Baiko the second. The previous morning, when Kenshin had awakened, he had managed to slip away from the camp undetected to practice his kata; Baiko had found him later and watched. Now Kenshin saw no harm in letting Baiko know where he was going, and so after speaking briefly with him, he went off toward the stream to practice. It felt so good to go through the familiar forms in the brisk, early morning air. There was a time, during those dark years in Kyoto, when these kata had served only to remind him of assassinations and slaughter. But now he found that the joy his kata used to bring when he was a boy was starting to come back. When he finished his practice, he felt renewed and ready to face the challenges of the day.

The performance was scheduled for mid-morning so that the troupe could be on the road for Miyazaki right after lunch. Not only was Kenshin's play on the ticket, he learned, but also the final scene from the drama _Kanjincho. _In this, he was told, Daisuke and Orinosuke would show off the finest dramatic acting in all of Japan; Ryosuke would be replacing Ennosuke in a minor role. So it was that the entire camp was bustling even at this early hour, and breakfast was a rushed affair. By seven-thirty, the men were already practicing their kabuki kata, and by nine o'clock the stage was ready to be set with props and furniture. As it took Kenshin considerably longer to get costumed and made up than the others, he was sent immediately to the wagon to begin the process with Ikuko.

It wasn't more than ten minutes after Kenshin started the makeup process when Satoshi, the doctor, showed up. His excuse for arriving so early was to check on Ennosuke's leg, but his real reason was his desire to talk to Kenshin again. The thought that the rurouni traveling with the kabuki troupe might be related to the little red-haired boy he saw all those years ago with the Kiheitai had piqued his curiosity. The only people he saw when he arrived, however, were Daisuke and his sons setting up the stage. Satoshi managed to contain his disappointment by watching the men start setting the stage with props and furniture. He found it so intriguing that when Ennosuke hobbled over to lead him to the family's tent, he found it difficult to tear himself away. He returned fifteen minutes later to find everyone gone except Orinosuke, who was putting the final touches to the set. At the sight of Satoshi, Orinosuke jumped down from the stage to meet him.

"Sensei-san,"Orinosuke said, bowing in a rather curt, business-like way, "what's the news on my brother? Father is dressing for the performance and asked me to get your report."

"He's doing quite well, actually," Satoshi began. "The stitches I put in are holding nicely, there's no bleeding, and he seems to have gotten the hang of those crutches pretty quickly. I'd say there should be no problem for him to travel as long as he's not jostled too much over the next two or three days."

"That's good news, indeed," Orinosuke said.

He immediately turned to get back to work, but Satoshi stopped him and said, "I have some medicine and instructions for your brother's care. Perhaps I should give these to Himura-san?"

"Himura," Orinosuke growled. Just the name raised his hackles, but he quickly reined in his anger. In a calmer voice he said, "Himura-san is changing for the show also. He's filling in for my brother. Perhaps you can leave everything with me."

Satoshi handed him several packets of salves and written instructions, then said, "You know, it's so odd to meet a true Japanese with red hair, but he is actually the second one I've seen in my lifetime."

"The second?" Orinosuke repeated, suddenly very alert and interested.

"Aa," Satoshi went on, eager to tell someone—_anyone_—his story. "About eight years ago I joined the Kiheitai, over in Chousu—you know, the people's army that got started right at the beginning of the Bakumatsu—and there was this little kid with a big sword and red hair. I had never seen red hair before, but they told me he was a true Japanese. Thirteen or fourteen, they say he was. Must've had some gaijin blood in him or something. I never actually met him—he was off to Kyoto pretty soon after I got that glimpse. So, your rurouni's the second one I've seen. Maybe he's a cousin of the one I saw. Wouldn't that be coincidental!"

"I don't believe in coincidences," Orinosuke said darkly. He turned to stare at the wagon, where Kenshin was having his makeup applied.

"Now that I think of it," Satoshi continued, "he's really the third red-head I've heard of.

"Third?" Orinosuke asked absently, his eyes still glued to the wagon.

"Aa. You've of course heard of the Hitokiri Battousai, haven't you?"

Orinosuke turned back to look at Satoshi, his eyes narrowed and glittering with suspicion. "We heard rumors of such a hitokiri when we lived in Kyoto, but we left for good after the Ikedaya massacre. What of it?"

"Well, they say _he_ had red hair, too. Of course, _I_ haven't ever seen him, but they say he was seven feet tall, eyes of fire…."

"Was?"

"Well, from what I hear, he disappeared right after the Shogun abdicated. I'm guessing his luck ran out. But the stories they tell about him…!"

"Yes, thank you, sensei-san," Orinosuke cut him off. "I must get back to work. I will pass on your instructions to the rurouni." Then he strode away, leaving Satoshi in mid-word.

No, Orinosuke thought as he finished positioning props on the stage, there could be no coincidence here. The sensei said he saw a red-haired boy eight years ago and that the boy was thirteen or so? The rurouni said he was twenty-one, though he looked a good deal younger. Himura may have fooled the sensei, but it didn't fool him. He would bet his last ryo that Himura and that boy were one and the same, and that meant this rurouni had been in the thick of things in Kyoto back during the Bakumatsu.

As for the Hitokiri Battousai having red hair? There had been rumors of a shadow assassin with that name when the family left Kyoto—an assassin whose very name filled hearts with terror—but when they left, no one had ever actually seen him. So, the terror of Kyoto had red hair as well…. Kagoshima being as far south in Japan as one could go without falling into the ocean, they had never gotten much news of what went on in Kyoto after the move, so he had never heard anything more about the assassin. Not for a moment did he believe anyone was seven feet tall, but in his line of business he knew all to well that all one had to do to achieve eyes of fire was to squint with a certain angry intensity….

"Hey, First Brother—stop staring off into space and get changed!" Ryosuke shouted from the tent at the back of the stage.

Orinosuke glared at him. He stuffed the packets from Satoshi into his sleeve pocket and walked back to his own tent to change. Best to put it all out of his mind right now, he thought. There would be plenty of time later, on the road to Miyazaki, to tease the truth out of the rurouni.

Ikuko was just putting the final touches to Kenshin's makeup when Kenshin felt the surge of angry ki, which he quickly identified as Orinosuke's. He cast his senses out to try to determine what had caused it, but he couldn't tell. There was someone out there with him, but it wasn't possible to determine who. A pang of anxiety shot through him at the thought that it might be Satoshi—no telling what the man might tell Orinosuke—but it could just as well have been one of the children or even one of the townspeople arriving early. Ikuko must have sensed his apprehension, for she said, "Getting nervous, Himura-san?"

Kenshin's mind snapped back to the wagon. "What? Oh, no, just thinking," he stammered.

Ikuko laughed gently as she started wrapping the cloth around his hair. "You wouldn't be the first to get the jitters before your first show, you know. You should have seen First Son before his debut as the priest in _Narukami_. One of the greatest roles in all of kabuki, and he was only twenty when he first performed it! Here he had been performing several of the great secondary roles—to much acclaim, I might add—but the way he was shaking and chewing his nails that night, you'd think he had never been on a stage before in his entire life!"

She now placed the wig on his head and started helping him into his kimono. As she started tying the obi, she said, "Now, Himura-san, there are a few things you need to know about performance days. First, no one must see you before you have been on stage, so you will go directly from here to the tent at the back of the stage. After the performance, however, some people might want to come back to pay you a compliment. If they do, you must remember to always act the part of a woman. Never break the illusion, even if some ignorant man tries to proposition you."

"Proposition me?" Kenshin choked out. That brought his mind even more quickly back to reality. "You mean, try to seduce me?!"

It took a valiant effort on Ikuko's part to hold back her laughter at Kenshin's panic. "It has happened on occasion," she said. "After all, even you didn't know that men played the women's parts, did you?"

"This one knows it now," he grumbled. Great. On top of having to act like a woman even outside the play, he was going to have to fend off lecherous townspeople.

"Oh, and one other thing," Ikuko said. "Husband has created a stage name for you—Shinosuke the First. You like it? He took the kanji from the last part of your name and made it into something that sounds like it belongs to our family."

A stage name? He hadn't expected anything like this, and certainly not a name that made him sound like part of the family.

"This is more than sessha deserves," he said with genuine gratitude, and he bowed as deeply as he could without losing the wig. "Arigatou gozaimasu."

Baiko was waiting for him outside the wagon to help him down and walk him to the stage tent, and this time Kenshin didn't refuse the help. As he walked, he saw the townspeople starting to arrive. The doctor, he noted, was already seated up front with his wife and young son. Satoshi kept looking around as if trying to find someone, and Kenshin had the funny feeling it was him. Baiko noticed the doctor as well and suddenly slapped himself on the head.

"I almost forgot!" he said apologetically as he drew the packets out of his sleeve. "Here, this is for you—it's Ennosuke's medicine and instructions from the sensei. He gave it to Orinosuke-san to give to you, and he passed it along to me. I figured I should put them in your travel bag for you."

So, Satoshi _had_ talked to Orinosuke.

"Baiko," Kenshin said tensely, "did the sensei discuss anything else with Orinosuke?"

"I don't know," Baiko answered. "I was putting up the flag poles at the time. All I saw was him handing these packets to Orinosuke-san. Why? You worried?"

Kenshin didn't answer. A farmer and his family were passing by and were bowing to him in a most formal way. It took all his strength of mind to push his worry aside and to bow back in a manner befitting a well-off woman. The effort almost made him lose his balance on the high geta.

"Kuso," he muttered under his breath as he regained his footing.

"Tsk, tsk—not being very lady-like, are we?" Baiko teased at hearing the expletive.

"Baiko," Kenshin growled dangerously, "you're pushing your luck."

"Listen, Himura," Baiko said, bringing Kenshin back to the subject at hand, "if old Sourpuss gives you a hard time, just give him your ditzy-widow routine. Might as well make use of what they're teaching you, ne?"

"Just what do you mean?" Kenshin asked.

"Well, I should think that's obvious," Baiko replied. "If Satoshi-sensei did tell his story to Orinosuke-san, you don't want to tell him he's right, do you? And you certainly can't threaten him with your sword. But you _could_ pretend you're as clueless as that widow character you play, couldn't you, and what could he say to that?"

"Hmm," was all Kenshin said in reply.

By this time, they had arrived at the tent. Baiko left him there, saying, "Don't worry," but Kenshin was good and tense now. Ryosuke noticed it right away but attributed it to a case of stage fright. He was just putting the finishing touches to his makeup and now looked like a rather fearsome demon, so when he smiled at Kenshin, the effect was rather disconcerting.

"First-day jitters, Himura-san?" he asked amiably.

"Hmm? What?" Kenshin muttered. "Oh, no, Ryosuke-san, just thinking. Gomen…."

Daisuke shot a concerned glance at Ryosuke; Ryosuke nodded back imperceptibly.

"Himura-san, did I ever tell you about the first time Youngest Brother had his first speaking lines?" Ryosuke continued. "It's not like he had never been on the stage before, but when it came time to say those lines, he froze—just froze! You know what Father did? Came up behind him and goosed him, right in the posterior! That got him going!"

Ryosuke roared with laughed at the memory while Daisuke mimed the action.

"Works every time, doesn't it, Second Son?" Daisuke guffawed.

Kenshin looked from one to the other in horror, which made them laugh all the more. Kenshin decided he'd better find that sense of fun pretty quickly before something drastic happened, and he soon managed to smile along with his companions.

"That's better, Himura-san," Daisuke said soothingly. "Nothing to be afraid of here—you'll do just fine."

Suddenly, the hubbub of the audience outside came to a halt, and Kenshin could hear Ennosuke announce the play and the names of the players. It took him a moment to realize that the actor identified as Shinosuke the First was actually himself. Well, it was certainly a better name than the one had had been known by during the Bakumatsu, he thought ruefully. Daisuke and Ryosuke now became very quiet and closed their eyes as if meditating. Kenshin decided to follow suit, and he prayed to the gods that this trial he was about to endure would pass without incident.

Then the drum sounded, signaling the start of the play. Kenshin's character was the first on stage, so down the long ramp he went to begin the scene. Everything went well for the first minute or so, but then he heard the laughs coming from the audience at his actions. He looked out and suddenly froze. After spending so much of his life hiding in the shadows trying not to be seen, he found it suddenly terrifying to find himself being stared at by hundreds of eyes. He started backing up, almost instinctively moving his hand to his hip for his absent sakabatou. The audience laughed even more, thinking it was all part of the play. Luckily, Daisuke was making his own entrance at that very moment. He, of course, understood immediately what was happening.

"A wandering exorcist am I," Daisuke intoned in his sing-song kabuki delivery, "and a widow in need meets my eye. Possessed by a goose of a demon, no doubt!"

Kenshin was not so frozen that he didn't notice the unusual dialogue. Goose of a demon? That was _not_ in the script! The fear of a pinch on his posterior was a great motivation, and he quickly snapped out of his paralysis. Now he turned his finely honed concentration skills solely on Daisuke and then on Ryosuke when he came out, and he soon ceased to notice the audience at all. Ryosuke, for his part, immediately started teasing Kenshin with improvisations as a way to keep him on track; it didn't take long before Kenshin found himself teasing back, just as he had the day before during their rehearsal. At the climactic bean-throwing scene, when Ryosuke once again rolled some beans on the floor in an attempt to trip him, he even felt comfortable enough to recreate his pratfall of the previous day, complete with a return volley of beans that was faster than the eye could see. The audience loved it and responded with long and loud applause. As he took his bow with Daisuke and Ryosuke, he found himself somewhat astonished once again that so many people were watching, but now it was okay—no one had threatened him, no one had recognized him. He was still safe.

They all retired now to the tent at the back of the stage, where Orinosuke was waiting in full costume and make-up to help his father and brother make a quick change for the upcoming drama. Perhaps it was because of the rush, but much to Kenshin's surprise, he found Orinosuke to be all business—there was none of the hostility or anger that had been so apparent earlier. Not wishing to press his luck, Kenshin quickly took his leave out the back to return to the wagon and change out of his own costume.

This time there was no one to help him walk back to the wagon, for Baiko was helping Bunjiro, Byako, and Saburo change the scenery and props and the women were playing a musical interlude. Even Ikuko was busy, taking care of the two youngest children. So, on his own, he slowly and carefully started making his way towards the wagon, carefully avoiding even the tiniest pebble lest he stumble.

He hadn't walked more than ten steps when he saw a farmer hurrying towards him calling out, "Onna-san! Onna-san!" Kenshin kept right on walking, not realizing who the man was talking to until the farmer brazenly grabbed Kenshin's elbow to stop him. Kenshin looked up in surprise to find the man performing a most elaborate bow.

"Onna-san, please, allow this poor farmer to address your eminent self!" the man said as he continued his nonstop bowing.

Kenshin was rather startled by the man's actions, and not knowing what else to do, he returned the bows. Never break the illusion, Ikuko had ordered him, and so he put on what he thought would be the look of a startled woman.

"Onna-san, your plight has moved me greatly," the farmer continued.

What the hell?

"That a widow, with no husband to protect her, must defend herself against the most horrible of demons! Why, the injustice is too great!"

Oh, no, Kenshin realized, the guy thought the play was real! He bowed in what he hoped would be a conversation-ending manner and tried to walk off, but the farmer stopped him again.

"I am but a poor farmer and a widower myself," the man persisted. "I own merely three sections of land, planted in potatoes, soybeans, and an orchard, but it would be my honor to offer you all that I own as well as my humble protection if you were to marry me."

Now Kenshin's eyes went wide, and he whipped out his fan to hide his face. Why, the man was proposing to him! He had been told to keep the illusion, but this was going too far! He started looking around in a panic for some way to get out of this situation short of speaking, which would give away his gender. As luck would have it, a savior arrived in the nick of time in the form of Baiko.

"Anata! Meeting an admirer from the audience?" Baiko called out heartily as he moved possessively to Kenshin's side.

"Anata?" the man squeaked. "Is this woman your wife? I thought she was a widow!"

Kenshin slunk back a step and started fanning himself as his eyes darted back and forth between the two men. He had no idea what Baiko was up to, but he had the feeling it was going to be embarrassing.

"Ah, that she is," Baiko replied with a smile and a wink at Kenshin, "but we're to be married in just a few days. A fine performer, ne?" He took Kenshin's hand, patted it gently, and placed it on his arm in preparation for walking.

"Oh, ah, oh!" the man stammered. "Please, onna-san, I had no idea! Please forgive my forwardness! Oh dear, oh dear!" And he backed away in a flurry of bows and hurried off as fast as he could.

Kenshin slapped the fan shut and stared at Baiko. His hand had become as tight as a vice on Baiko's arm, and Baiko yelped.

" 'Anata?' " Kenshin said in a low, dangerous voice. "'We're to be married?' Couldn't you have thought of something else?"

Baiko pried Kenshin's hand off his arm.

"Well, I had to think of _something_, didn't I?" Baiko said with a smirk. "And it worked, didn't it? You'd think a woman would be more grateful for being saved from a proposition like that!"

Kenshin growled and was about to whip out the fan in the Shinsengumi manner when Baiko said, "Come on, buck up! At least let me help you walk back to the wagon and keep any other love-struck fans away. I'm on my way there anyway to pick up a prop Daisuke-san forgot to put on the list."

Baiko placed Kenshin's hand back on his arm and gave him a smug smile. If anyone had seen the two walking, all they would have noticed was a man leading a woman with an exceedingly grim expression on her face and a black cloud hovering over her well-coiffed head. Damn, Kenshin thought! He did appreciate the help walking back to the wagon, but this—this was just so humiliating!

After finally arriving back at the wagon, Kenshin waited impatiently while Baiko rooted around for the needed prop, then he quickly slipped out of his geta and hopped inside. He immediately removed the heavy wig and unbound his hair, shaking it out with great relief. Within minutes, the obi and kimono were gone as well and folded neatly on top of the costume box. Then it was on to removing the make-up. Only when he was done did he look in a mirror, and only then to make sure there were no traces of white left on his face. It was only the X-shaped scar on his cheek that seemed to hold remnants of the make-up, but even those few flakes disappeared once he gave the scar an extra scrubbing. Then he tied back his hair and, finally, picked up his sakabatou and put it through his belt. Now he felt complete—at last he was himself again! He hadn't realized until that moment how stressful it had been to don the persona of a woman, and he knew he would be very glad when Ennosuke was well enough to take back this job.

Now that he was out of costume, however, his worry about running into the doctor reemerged. He very much wanted to watch Daisuke and his sons in the upcoming drama, but he was afraid that if he sat with the audience, Satoshi would see him say something again about his past. The roof of the wagon, however, looked like it might afford him a good view of the stage, and there was no way Satoshi would find him there. So, he jumped lightly to the top of the wagon and sat on the edge. The view was excellent.

The play, he had been told, was one of the stories dealing with the famous rivalry between two great warlords of the twelfth century, Minamoto Yoritomo and his younger brother Minamoto Yoshitune. In this story, Yoshitune must pass a roadblock set up by his brother to capture him. In order to prevent Yoshitune's capture, the samurai Benkei disguises Yoshitune as a lowly porter and concocts an elaborate ruse to fool the barrier guard Togashi, even going so far as to nearly beat Yoshitune to death when Togashi comes close to suspecting the truth. When Togashi sees this, he is so filled with admiration for the depths of Benkei's loyalty toYoshitune that he lets them pass, knowing that this act of disobedience to his own lord means he himself must commit seppuku.

Kenshin remembered this story from when he was a boy. Hiko had made it a practice to tell Kenshin the famous tales of bravery and honor, and this had been one of them. It had not been one of Kenshin's favorites back then. He had fully admired Benkei for his courage and loyalty, but he could not say the same for Togashi, whom the story also made out to be a hero. If he had been Togashi, he used to think, he would never have let his personal admiration for Benkei interfere with his duty. That, to his boyish mind, would have been too shameful. Now that he was older, though, he saw things differently. Back during his days in Kyoto, there had been a few men he had admired greatly for their integrity and courage, even though they remained fiercely loyal to the shogun and the Bakufu. He had killed them, of course, as duty had required, but he remembered thinking even then that it was particularly wrong to have taken their lives….

His mind was snapped back to the present with the announcement of the play and its actors and the sound of the drum. He had never seen a kabuki drama before and so didn't know what to expect, but from the first moments of the play, he found himself totally transported into the heart of the story. Orinosuke was positively riveting as the courageous samurai Benkei. As for Daisuke's Togashi, Kenshin was astonished to see how much emotion could be conveyed by just the smallest of his facial expressions, lending great power to his performance as well. Kenshin may never have seen a kabuki production before, but he was sure he had just witnessed two of the greatest actors alive.

Now that the play was over, however, his fear of running into Satoshi surfaced again, so he quickly hopped back into the wagon and busied himself with readying the boxes for packing away the costumes and props. By the time he and Baiko had finished putting everything away, he knew Satoshi would be long gone, and he felt a huge surge of relief.

Just as with breakfast, lunch was a hurried affair, for they had only two days to get to Miyazaki, and the road would be mountainous for much of the way. Kenshin once again took up his position on the right side of the wagon, accompanied by Noriko and Nomi, but as the road became steeper and more rock-strewn, Noriko put Nomi up into the wagon and then joined her to keep her out of trouble. That was a relief to Kenshin, for he wanted no distractions this day from casting out his senses for danger. Satoshi had been most specific with his warning of yakuzas the day before, and Kenshin only wished that the rest of the women and children could have ridden in the wagon as well. Unfortunately, with only a single horse pulling the wagon uphill, that was impossible.

It didn't take long for Orinosuke to notice that Kenshin was alone, and he now fell back to walk at Kenshin's side. Kenshin acknowledged his presence with a nod but said nothing. There was something about Orinosuke's ki right then that made him very uncomfortable, and the man's frequent, piercing glances only heightened his tension. Finally, Orinosuke spoke.

"I had a fascinating chat earlier with that doctor, Satoshi-san," Orinosuke began, an ominous tone to his voice. "He had some very interesting tales to tell."

He looked pointedly at Kenshin, but Kenshin merely kept walking.

"Seems he was a member of the Kiheitai during the Bakumatsu," he continued. "You know about the Kiheitai, don't you?"

Kenshin again said nothing.

"Seems that while he was there, there was this young boy—a little swordsman with red hair who went off to Kyoto with the Ishin Shishi."

"Why are you telling me this?" Kenshin finally said tersely.

"You're that boy, aren't you," Orinosuke growled. When Kenshin didn't respond, he said menacingly, "Answer me!"

What was it that Baiko had told him to do if this happened? Act like that ditzy widow in the play? He put on as innocent a face as he could muster. Then he turned to Orinosuke and said, "Oro?"

"What the…?" Now Orinosuke was truly angry, and fire flashed from his eyes. "Don't play the fool with me, boy! You're that red-head, aren't you!"

A large pile of rocks that had tumbled down the mountain lay straight ahead. The caravan had been winding its way around many such piles of rocks for miles, but just then Kenshin decided not to avoid this one. He threw himself headlong over the pile as if he had tripped. When he sat up, he was swirly-eyed and holding his head.

"Oro, oro, oro!" he exclaimed.

Orinosuke stopped short and looked down at him in disgust. "You're pathetic," he spat out. Then he stalked off.

If Orinosuke had had eyes in back of his head, he would have seen a radically different Kenshin, for the swirly eyes were instantly replaced with the narrowed, all-seeing eyes of a hitokiri. Baiko hurried over to help him up.

"What the hell happened?" he asked quietly as he pulled Kenshin upright.

"He knows," Kenshin said.

"He knows what?" Baiko asked.

"Satoshi-sensei told him about the Kiheitai. He knows."

"But did he say anything about… you know, who you are?"

"No, but it's only a matter of time."

"Well, that's okay, then," Baiko said with relief. "You've at least thrown him off the scent for awhile."

"No," Kenshin said grimly, "it's no good. It won't take him long to put two and two together. Sessha should leave now, before it goes any farther."

"You'd have hell to pay from Daisuke-san and the others—you've promised to help them out," Baiko reminded him.

"And you think they'd still want me around if they found out?" Kenshin laughed bitterly. "No, Baiko, once anyone learns that this one was not just a hitokiri, but _the_ Hitokiri Battousai, nothing else matters to them anymore. And in a way, maybe they're right to be afraid—not of me, but of those seeking revenge against me. This one knows from experience that revenge-seekers think nothing of killing an innocent if they think it brings them closer to me." He lowered his eyes and shook his head. "What was I thinking, accepting Daisuke-san's offer like this? It will always be this way."

Once again, Baiko's ire arose at the injustice of it all. What kind of thanks was that for someone who had done so much to bring about the end of the old, oppressive rule? He sighed in frustration. But as he headed back to his post at the rear of the wagon, he said, "Himura, Matsuo was right—you're a good man—but if you even so much as try to walk out on us, I'll come after you myself! You got that?"

Kenshin gave a small smile. "Aa, Baiko-san, sessha's got it."

The afternoon seemed to drag on as they slowly continued up the mountain road, so that when they finally reached the crest and saw an expansive, fertile valley stretching out below them, they all let out a cheer. It would have been nice to stop and take a good rest before starting the long, downhill journey, but it was already mid-afternoon, and they still had a long way to go. So on they trudged, happy at least that the road was now all downhill.

The climate on this side of the mountain, they found, was different, for the sky quickly seemed to fill with gray clouds that held the threat of rain in the not-too-distant future. The trees lining the road, however, were ablaze with brilliant autumn yellows and oranges, which more than made up for the bleakness of the sky. Indeed, they had been enjoying this part of the trip for well over an hour when Daisuke suddenly pulled the horse to a stop and stood on the wagon bench. There was something in the road—something big. He couldn't quite make out what it was, though, because it was getting close to dusk and the light was fading. He was about to tell Orinosuke to check it out, but Orinosuke was already running ahead, sword drawn just in case.

It was a huge basket slung on a pole, the kind carried by two men. It had been sliced open, and there was blood smeared on the side of it. There was still evidence on the road of the basket's contents—lettuce and daikon, from the looks of it.

"Quick!" Orinosuke called out. "Get the women and children into the wagon! Bandits have been here!"

Baiko bolted forward at that. As he passed Kenshin, he yelled, "Help them up—I'm going for a look!"

Ryosuke ran forward as well, followed by Daisuke, who had handed the reins over to Ennosuke. Kenshin, meanwhile, quickly helped Mayako, Mei, and their children into the wagon, then jumped lightly on top to get a view of the surrounding countryside. He had not sensed hostile ki in the area, but one could never be too sure. At the sound of his landing, however, one of the women cried out, "Help! We're under attack!"

It was Mei, and she was in a panic. Kenshin quickly lay flat on the roof and hung his head down into the open back of the wagon.

"Mei-dono, calm down—it's only the rurouni!" he said quickly.

"You can jump that high?" Bunjiro exclaimed as he joined Mei at the opening. "Wow! Can you teach me—aack!"

His mother had grabbed him by the gi and pulled him back in. "Don't let your father hear you talking to that man!" Kenshin heard her whisper rather loudly.

He pulled himself back up to stand on the roof again and surveyed the countryside. There were no signs of bandits, but he did see something off to the left side of the road.

"Baiko, over there!" he called out. "Looks like a hat!"

Baiko ran over to look. It was, indeed, a hat, but there was also a ripped yukata and signs of blood. He ran back to the road and motioned for Kenshin to join him and the others.

"Looks like these basket-carriers were attacked, all right," Baiko said grimly, "but the blood looks pretty old, and I can't find any tracks except where someone dragged the guy who was bleeding off to the side over there. What do you make of it, Himura?"

Kenshin was already heading for the opposite side of the road. He made his way into the underbrush, walking slowly in order to take in the position of every twig of every shrub and every indentation of the earth. Hiko had taught him the art of tracking so well that he could sometimes even track the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu himself, and that was no mean feat. Tracking careless men like these bandits was infinitely easier, although he knew that most men could not see what he could. Sure enough, broken twigs and indentations in the grass gave evidence of several men heading east. Remnants of some lettuce leaves confirmed his find.

"From the look of it," Kenshin said as he returned to the group, "the bandits seem to have headed east, so I'd say the victims headed north towards the town. It looks like there were several attackers—three or four at least."

"You sure the attackers headed east and not towards town?" Baiko asked. He was worriedly looking down the road.

"Aa," Kenshin answered. "They weren't too careful crashing through the brush. It was pretty easy to find their tracks, and they go east for quite a distance. I'd say we'll most likely be safe on this road until we reach town."

"And you would know this how?" Orinosuke asked sarcastically. "Perhaps these are friends of yours from your Kyoto days, and you're in cahoots with them?"

Kenshin pointedly ignored the insult and instead turned to Daisuke, saying "It makes sense that the victims would not go in the same direction as their attackers, so if they headed for the village, then it's a good bet their attackers didn't. Anyway," he continued, turning to Baiko, "didn't Satoshi-sensei say these yakuzas attacked some outlying farms but not the village itself?

"Aa," Baiko answered. "What of it?"

"Then, most likely they're only looking for easy targets—farmers going to market, isolated houses—people and places that can't defend themselves. And since they left evidence of their attack right here on the road, they'd know that anyone else traveling past would be on alert for an attack. To this one, it looks like it's been at least a day or a day-and-a-half since they struck. They're long gone from here."

"That makes sense to me," Baiko said. Then, turning to Daisuke and his sons, he added, "What about you?"

Daisuke and Ryosuke were nodding in agreement when suddenly Orinosuke, who had been holding his sword loosely at his side the whole time, brought the sword up to Kenshin's neck.

"You'd better be right about this," Orinosuke growled out menacingly, "because if you're leading us into a trap…," and he pushed the blade of the sword even further against Kenshin's skin.

Baiko gasped and held his breath. He had seen Kenshin practice, had seen the speed of Kenshin's sword and knew what he was capable of, and a momentary panic set in. But Kenshin, to his relief, stood stock-still, not moving a muscle. He merely returned Orinosuke's stare with a cold stare of his own.

Suddenly Ryosuke leaped in between his brother and Kenshin.

"That's it! I've had it with you!" Ryosuke yelled as he roughly pushed Orinosuke's sword away. "This entire journey your bitterness has gotten worse and worse until it's totally taken over your senses, and now you're taking it out on strangers? Why don't you just move back to Kyoto and leave us alone!"

"How dare you!" Orinosuke snarled. He dropped his sword and lunged for his brother, his fists upraised. Daisuke grabbed him and held him back; Baiko did likewise with Ryosuke.

"You know what I think?" Ryosuke yelled as he struggled against Baiko's grip. "I think you're jealous of the rurouni! Someone with no ties to anyone, can come and go as he pleases—aa, you're jealous of him! Why don't you just get up the courage and leave!"

Orinosuke's face was now contorted with rage. "As if you don't have an offer just like it from your wife's family in Tokyo!" Orinosuke snarled back. At Ryosuke's look of surprise, he added, "Oh yes, you think I don't know about that? You're a hypocrite!"

Ryosuke's eyes narrowed as he glared at his brother. He shook an arm out of Baiko's grip and pointed his finger accusingly at Orinosuke.

"You listen to me, Brother," Ryosuke spat out. "I'm not like you and never will be. You think you're too good for any place but Kyoto, but I'm not like that. Give me a stage and an audience, and I don't care where I am—I'll give them the best damned performance I can possibly give. I don't care if it's in Kagoshima, Kyoto, or that god-forsaken little hamlet we just played this morning! What makes you think those people deserved anything less from me than what I'd do for Shimazu-sama himself? You're a fool, Brother! Just cut your ties and leave. But if you can't, then deal with that bitterness of yours right now, because we've had it! And just so you know—I turned that offer down before we left Kagoshima."

Ryosuke turned away abruptly and stormed back to the wagon, leaving a fuming Orinosuke and a shaken Daisuke in his wake. Daisuke let go of Orinosuke now and stared hard into his eyes. He was stunned at the level of anger he saw there. Clearly Orinosuke had been nursing a deep resentment of what he viewed as a seven-year exile from Kyoto. Now that resentment was threatening to tear apart the entire family.

"Go back and take up your position," Daisuke ordered Orinosuke in a grim voice. "We'll discuss this later. Baiko, keep the women and children in the wagon, then let's get moving. We've got to make it to the next town before nightfall. I don't want to be caught out here after dark, just in case Himura-san's wrong. Speaking of which, where is he?"

"What?!"

Baiko had been so absorbed in the fight between the two brothers that he hadn't noticed Kenshin discreetly backing off and walking away. Once again he panicked, knowing that not too long ago Kenshin had expressed his intention to leave. He started sprinting back towards the wagon; he slowed only when he saw that Kenshin was already there, talking to Ennosuke.

Ennosuke, for his part, had been chafing at the bit to find out what was going on, since his broken leg had prevented him from leaving the wagon. So, when he saw Kenshin coming, he called out anxiously, "What happened down there?"

"Some farmers were attacked by bandits," Kenshin answered. When Ikuko's head shot out of the wagon at the word 'bandit,' he added quickly, "It wasn't today—it's been at least a day or more since the attack. It's likely that they are long gone from this area by now."

Ikuko gave a sigh of relief and went back inside, but Ennosuke was not satisfied yet. "If that's the case, then what was all the yelling about?" he pressed.

Kenshin hid his eyes with his bangs, afraid he would give away the anger he was trying hard to control. "That," he said, "appears to be a family matter."

"A family matter? What are you talking about?" Ennosuke started to say, but then he saw his brothers and father approaching. From the anger on his brothers' faces and the grimness on his father's, he could guess what happened. "Orinosuke and Kyoto, right?"

Kenshin nodded but said nothing else. Instead, he returned to his position on the right side of the wagon to wait for the caravan to move on again.

Daisuke now swung up onto the wagon bench, but before Ennosuke could even get a word out, Daisuke cut him off.

"I don't want to talk about it," Daisuke told him curtly. "Just know that your brothers had words about Kyoto. We will discuss it tonight. It's time we resolved this problem once and for all." Then, with a shake of the reins and a cluck to the horse, the wagon was on its way again.

****

Japanese Terms:

Kata: prescribed moves of a martial art.

Kiheitai: Kiheitai: a private army in Chousu created by Takasugi Shinsaku at the very beginning of the Bakumatsu. It was made up of commoners rather than samurai.

Bakumatsu: Japanese Civil War.

Gaijin: foreigner.

Ikedaya: massacre of Ishin Shishi leaders by the Shinsengumi at the Ikedaya Inn in June 1864.

Sensei: a learned person, doctor.

Ryo: unit of money.

Kanji: part of Japanese writing.

Arigato gozaimasu: thank you very much.

Geta: wooden sandals.

Kuso: a choice expletive.

Gomen: sorry.

Onna-san: Madam (literally, "Miss Lady").

Anata: my beloved.

Seppuku: ritual suicide by disembowelment.

Yakuza: mafia-type gang.

Ishin Shishi: name for the anti-Shogunate rebels during the Bakamatsu.

Shimazu-sama: Shimazu Hisamitsu was the lord of Satsuma province.

****

Author's Note: Well, how could I resist tormenting Kenshin with a marriage proposal! He would have made a great wife too, what with his cooking and laundry skills…. And now we know what's behind Orinosuke's anger. Will that have any effect on Kenshin? You'll just have to read on to find out.

So here are my apologies for taking so long to post this chapter. It's because even I, who don't particularly mind long chapters, thought 26 pages was maybe a little too long, and Co-Conspirator, who hates long chapters, was literally at her wit's end with the length. She finally convinced me to break things in two, but it took a long while to figure out where to split it. Now the next chapter is too short, but I can guarantee it won't be for long. So, next chapter: the travelers meet their next threat, and we learn the secret history of Daisuke during the Bakumatsu.

Thank you, reviewers, for all your kind comments! My family sometimes asks when I'll make any money from all the writing I've been doing, but my feeling is that your reviews are payment enough (as long as the family's regular paycheck keeps coming in, that is)! So, many thanks to: Calger 459, Haku Baikou, Bishounen Hunter, BakaBokken, Hitokiri oro-chan, PraiseDivineMercy, Hitokiri Elf slayer of evil, Maeve Riannon, beriath, koe 760, Shimizu Hitomi, Cattibrie393, Ayumi Ikari, Lucrecia Le Vrai, Audi Daudi, Miranda Crystal-Bearer, Wistful-Eyes, ESP, Arcueid, Corran Nackatori, Misaoshiru, Marisssa Willems, Ms. Zeal, and Steffel.

****

Co-Conspirator's Note: Yes, she truly exists, but she is stuck in the purgatory of school until the end of the month. Papers out the wazoo these past few weeks, poor kid. She's been most helpful, however, in shaping this chapter, and she's made sure I don't do something stupid (like leaving in one of her little jokes, like last time!).


	6. chapter 6

Sorry for the delay, everyone—explanation is in the note at the end.

Here's where I make all the lawyers happy: _Rurouni Kenshin_ doesn't belong to me: Jump Comics, Sony, Viz, and a bunch of other mega corporations own the rights. And, of course, Watsuki Nobuhiro, who deserves everything he earns from it!

It's been a long time, so here's the who's who of the Daisuke family:

Daisuke: also called Father, Father-in-Law.  
Ikuko: also called Mother, Mother-in-Law.  
Orinosuke: also called First Son, First Brother.  
Ryosuke: also called Second Son, Second Brother.  
Ennosuke: also called Youngest Son, Youngest Brother.

****

An Unexpected Lesson

By

Conspirator

Chapter 6

The sky was getting darker and the storm clouds were thickening as the wagon started down the road once more. After the encounter with the remnants of a bandit attack, it had been decided that the women and children would ride in the wagon for the rest of the way, and everyone's nerves were on edge. The slightest swish of a tree branch, the merest hint of a cracking twig caused everyone but Kenshin to tense. He alone remained unworried, for his keenly honed senses told him that they were safe on this road, at least for now.

It wasn't long before the horse started showing signs of tiring, however, now that all the women and children were riding in the wagon along with all the trunks and the portable stage, so Daisuke handed the reins to Ennosuke and jumped down to walk. Even so, it was clear the horse could not go much farther. Daisuke had hoped to reach the next town before making camp, but the light was nearly all gone now, thanks to the storm clouds that seemed to be getting darker by the minute. He was beginning to think they would have to either camp on the road after all or else get drenched in the dark if they continued on their way. He dreaded either prospect. He was just about to give up and start looking for a suitable place to stop when Ennosuke called out, "Look—lights up ahead!"

Sure enough, not far down the road was the unmistakable flicker of a line of lights that seemed to be moving towards them. What they were, Daisuke couldn't tell. He looked over at Orinosuke, who was doing his best to peer into the deepening gloom, but he could tell his oldest son had no idea what they were, either. Tiny pinpricks of light beyond the moving lights led Daisuke to believe that the town was just up ahead.

"Youngest Son, can you make out anything?" Daisuke asked, hoping that Ennosuke's vantage point on the wagon bench would give him a better view.

Ennosuke pulled the wagon to a stop and peered out. "I can't tell a thing in this light," he responded, "but it's definitely coming this way."

Now Baiko and Ryosuke joined them, curious as to why they had stopped. When Baiko saw the line of lights approaching, he let out a low curse.

"Can you see what it is, Baiko-san?" Daisuke asked.

"Men with torches," Baiko answered, "and I'm betting it's not a welcoming committee."

He looked around for Kenshin to ask his opinion, but Kenshin was still standing at his post at the right side of the wagon. He had decided after the earlier flare-up with Orinosuke to keep as far away from the man as possible and so had not moved forward with the others.

"Himura," Baiko called out softly, "get up here—quick!"

The urgent tone of Baiko's voice moved him to action, and he hurried to join them, though he made sure to keep his distance from Orinosuke.

"What do you make of it?" Baiko asked him as he pointed towards the lights. There was a hint of fear creeping into his voice.

The line of men was now near enough that they could see an assortment of clubs, swords, and a pitchfork. How many men there were, however, remained unclear.

"They are not trained warriors," Kenshin finally answered after a few seconds, "but they are hostile."

No sooner were the words uttered than he noticed Orinosuke draw his sword and assume an aggressive stance. "It would be best, though," he added quietly to Baiko, "if Orinosuke-san would put his weapon down."

Baiko looked over and cursed again. "Put that thing away!" Baiko yelled quickly as he grabbed Orinosuke's sword arm "You want to get us all killed?"

Orinosuke glared at Baiko but Daisuke barked out, "Just do as he says!"

The women were now peering out through the curtain of the wagon, wondering what was going on.

"Get back inside!" Daisuke ordered them, "and tell the children to be quiet!"

The order was instantly obeyed.

The line of men had now reached the wagon. There were only five of them—townsfolk, not bandits, by the look of it. Their weapons, Kenshin noted with relief, were all in a sad state of disrepair. He had been right—these were no warriors, but they were certainly angry enough to be dangerous.

"Who are you, and what do you want here?" the man with the club demanded.

"We are the Daisuke Kabuki Family of Kagoshima," Daisuke answered as calmly as he could. "We're hoping to find a safe place to camp for the night."

"You're yakuzas," the man retorted as he held his club a bit higher.

"Yakuzas?" Daisuke repeated. "No, I assure you, I am Kawayama Daisuke, patriarch of this kabuki family. These are my sons and two employees."

Now a second man, armed with a battered and rusty sword, stood forward. "What's a bunch of actors from Kagoshima doing on a mountain road so far from home, then, unless you're really yakuzas?" he asked menacingly.

Daisuke was beginning to worry for his family's safety. Nevertheless, he drew himself up and said, "We have been commanded by Shimazu Hisamitsu, governor of this prefecture, to present a performance at the Miyazaki Shrine in two days' time. We mean you no harm and only seek safe passage to Miyazaki."

"Prove it," the first man said as he walked over to Daisuke, his club now raised even higher over his head.

Orinosuke's hand started moving towards the hilt of his sword again, but Ryosuke noticed and quickly grabbed his brother's shoulder. "Don't even think of it," he whispered harshly in his brother's ear.

Daisuke moved cautiously over to the wagon and called up, "Anata! Could you find the scroll from Shimazu-sama and hand it forward?"

Sounds of boxes being shifted, and women and children muttering quietly, could be heard as the stand-off continued. After what seemed like an eternity, Ikuko stuck her head out and handed an ornate scroll to Ennosuke, who handed it down to his father. Daisuke unrolled it and held it forward, saying, "This is the order from Shimazu-sama, requesting our attendance in Miyazaki."

The man with the club eyed it, then said, "Don't mean a thing to me—I can't read."

"Then the seal itself should tell you it's genuine," Daisuke said quickly as he unrolled the scroll further to show the seal.

Now the man with the rusty sword came up and pushed the other man aside. "Let me see that." He grabbed the scroll rudely from Daisuke. "I know how to read."

Several more eternally long seconds passed before the man looked up and said, "It's as he says, Koji-kun. They really are a kabuki troupe, and that really is Shimazu-sama's seal."

Now the three other men with torches lowered their weapons and began bowing and mumbling, "A thousand pardons! A thousand pardons!"

The man handed back the scroll, and with a deep bow of his own said, "Please forgive us, Kawayama-san. Some friends of ours were attacked on the road by yakuzas yesterday, and one of them died. We've been on the lookout for his murderers ever since, and we thought—a thousand pardons!—it might be you."

Daisuke bowed back to acknowledge the apology, taking the opportunity to hide his immense relief at the outcome of this confrontation. As he did, a roll of thunder could be heard off in the distance, and the winds started to pick up. The storm, he realized, would be upon them within minutes.

"Otoko-san, we need to make camp right away, before the storm hits," he said in an urgent voice. "We saw evidence of the attack on the road, and I don't mind saying I am extremely worried about camping in the open with yakuzas in the area. Would it be possible to find a place within in the safety of your town?"

The man with the pitchfork said, "There's room in the warehouse—you could stay there."

"Idiot," his comrade said. "You can't offer that—you only work there! What would Ichoda-san say to that?"

There was another roll of thunder, accompanied by a flash of lightening.

"Oh, shut up," the man with the sword said as he eyed the sky. "Listen, I'm an innkeeper. You can stay at my inn for the night. Let's just hurry, alright?"

"We are most grateful for your offer," Daisuke began, "but…."

"If it's cost you're worried about, don't be," the innkeeper broke in. "Shimazu-sama comes to our town from time to time for the hot springs. I'll let you stay for free at my inn if you promise to tell him of my generosity to your family. He never stays at my inn. Maybe if I'm this generous to his favored actors, it will convince him to honor us with his presence for once."

Now it was Daisuke who was doing the deep bowing.

"Teishou-san, we are unworthy of such kindness," he started to say, but Ikuko suddenly stuck her head out and shouted, "Enough with the formalities, already! Just accept the offer before we get caught in this storm!"

Daisuke sent an astonished look to his wife but then quickly sprang into action.

"She's right, teishou-san," he said quickly. "We are very grateful, we accept your kind offer. Men, back to your posts. Youngest Son, flick that whip, and let's get moving!"

They followed the innkeeper into town and reached the inn just as the first drops of rain started to fall. Ikuko hustled the other women and children inside while Baiko and Kenshin unloaded personal belongings and food into the waiting arms of Daisuke, Orinosuke, and Ryosuke. Then, after helping Ennosuke down from the wagon bench, Baiko and Kenshin took the wagon to the warehouse the armed men had mentioned, where the innkeeper had arranged for them stable the horse and house the wagon. Within half and hour, despite what turned out to be a violent thunderstorm, everyone and everything was settled in. The women had even managed to put together a good cold meal, complete with sweet potatoes they had cooked the day before and persimmons the children had gathered along the road as an extra treat.

As they all started filling their bowls with food, Daisuke tapped his sons' shoulders and said, "Bring those with you and follow me."

He led them from the inn's dining room to a sitting room at the other end of the building and motioned for them to sit down.

"To say that I was pained by what happened earlier today would be an understatement," Daisuke began when they had made themselves comfortable. "To think that my own family would come to blows with each other…."

He looked down briefly to gather his thoughts, then looked at his sons and said, "We live in difficult times. Everything we have known—everything our ancestors ever knew—has been turned upside down. It is a new age now, and it is presumptuous of me to think that we can live in this age without changing as well. Even the ancient law requiring sons to do the same work as their father and their father's father before him—it has all been swept away."

"Father…," Ennosuke started to say, but Daisuke waved his hand to cut him off.

"You are all good sons," he continued. "A man could not ask for better. The decision I made seven years ago to leave Kyoto was the most difficult I have ever been asked to make. You were all dutiful sons and followed without question. Only now do I realize the depths of the resentment that decision caused."

"There was no resentment!" Ryosuke cut in, but Orinosuke glared at him.

"First Son would disagree with you there," Daisuke noted, a sadness creeping into his voice, "and how could I blame him? He was torn away from a theater world where he was just coming into his own. Your skills have grown immensely even since that time, First Son, but I do understand your resentment. That is why I've called you all here. It's time I told you the real reason we left Kyoto."

"The real reason?" Ryosuke repeated. "I thought it was because people were too afraid to go to the theater after Ikedaya…."

"Yes, and the invitation from Shimazu-sama," Ennosuke added.

"It was damned cowardly, whatever the reason," Orinosuke said accusingly. "Funny how none of the other kabuki families felt the need to leave permanently. If there was some other reason, you've certainly hidden it well all these years."

Daisuke looked up in surprise at his comment. "You think so little of your father that you'd accuse him of cowardice?" He shook his head sorrowfully. "No, not cowardice—a desire to save this kabuki dynasty from total annihilation."

Chopsticks stopped in mid-air at that statement.

"What are you talking about?" Orinosuke asked slowly.

Daisuke sighed deeply. "You know, just like you, I assumed my life would follow the same path as my father's, just as his had followed the path of his father and that of his father's father before him, but the arrival of the Black Ships changed everything. What do I know of politics? But when the government raises taxes and then raises them some more because of the threats posed by the gaijins—well, after awhile, politics becomes everyone's business. The price of food was skyrocketing because the farmers were rebelling, yakuzas started extorting protection money from anyone who owned anything, including us theater-owners, and what did the Bakufu do? Not a thing. If anything, their own corruption just got worse.

"I don't know if you remember, but our theater was a favorite of a retainer of Okubo Toshimichi, one of Shimazu-sama's top aides. Samurai weren't allowed to attend kabuki performances, of course, but Hasuike-dono always found a way to disguise himself and come anyway. I think he managed never to miss a week in the three years I knew him. He even brought Okubo-sama himself several times—always in disguise, of course. One time, Okubo-sama even asked to meet me. It was at that meeting that I learned of the rebellion among the Satsuma and the Chousu against the corruption of the Bakufu. I asked how I could help the cause, and I began to put aside just a little of our profits every month to funnel to the rebels—to the Ishin Shishi. This was just after the gaijin obliterated the Chousu fortifications at Shimonoseki—a terrible time, indeed. For over a year I continued to help the cause in any way I could.

"But then the Ishin Shishi started their campaign of assassinations, and the Bakufu fought back by bringing in those thugs, the Shinsengumi. Outwardly, I pretended to be neutral to it all, but our theater-goers weren't. Do you remember the fights that broke out in our theater between Bakufu supporters and rebel sympathizers? And, of course, people did become too scared to come out to the theater. Yet even that would not have made me leave.

"But when the Shinsengumi massacred the rebel leaders at Ikedaya, they somehow managed to also find out the names of Ishin Shishi supporters. They went out and started slaughtering anyone they thought even mildly supported the rebel cause. That's why they murdered our caretaker—him and his entire family, even the little baby—all because he had helped feed some rebel fighters once or twice. I figured I was safe, though, because all I had done was funnel some money under the table. No way they'd ever find out about me, I thought.

"I was wrong. Two days after Ikedaya, Okubo-sama sent word that their spies had seen the Shinsengumi hit list, and my name was on it. My life is nothing—I would gladly have sacrificed it if it meant the end of the Bakufu. But I knew they would not stop at killing me—they would kill all of you as well, even your children. Now I was facing not just my own death, but the death of the great kabuki tradition started by our illustrious forebearer, the first Daisuke, nearly three hundred years ago. How could I, because of my own foolishness, cause the total annihilation of everything our ancestors had worked so hard to create and to pass down to us? Cowardice, First Son? I think not."

There was silence in the room as Daisuke stopped to sip some sake. He felt the warmth of the liquid slide down his throat, and it seemed to steel him for what he had to say next.

"Our move to Kagoshima, from my perspective, has been nothing but good," he continued. "I've felt freer to experiment and innovate than if we had remained in Kyoto. Our school for apprentices is thriving, and some of them show promise of becoming fine actors one day. We have been honored by requests from famous gaijin actors to teach them some of our ways, and they have taught us some of theirs. But I know this is no substitute for the accolades of one's fellow actors, and that can only happen in Kyoto.

"And so, First Son, I give you my blessing to leave Kagoshima for Kyoto and take your rightful place as that city's foremost dramatic actor. Go. Accept the offer from your wife's family. They hold as esteemed a name in the theater world as our own family does. I will not hold you here any longer. Second Son, I know you turned down a similar offer from your wife's family. Their move to the new capital has been good for them, and I believe that soon Tokyo will rival Kyoto as an important city for the traditional kabuki arts. And you, Youngest Son, if you should wish to join either of your brothers, I will not hold you back either. As for our theater in Kagoshima, we will survive. Some of our apprentices have made great strides and are ready for their debuts. If the gods see fit, I still have several more years left to pass along the traditions to them. So, don't feel that you are obligated to stay."

Daisuke closed his eyes and squeezed them tight, for he felt tears welling up, and that was one thing he did not want his sons to see. No one said a word.

"My desire was to return to Kyoto _with this family_," Orinosuke finally said in a low voice. "I must think carefully whether I would do so alone. But just let me ask you this. Did you support everything the Ishin Shishi did? Even the assassinations?"

"Of course not!" a startled Daisuke answered. "I supported their goals, not the assassinations! Why are you asking such a question? What does that have to do with anything?"

"I will give you my decision once we've reached Miyazaki," was all Orinosuke would say, and with that, he got up and left.

"What about you?" Daisuke asked his two remaining sons.

"I meant what I said this afternoon," Ryosuke said as he stood up to leave. "I turned down the offer, and I have no intention of changing my mind."

"And you?" Daisuke said to Ennosuke.

"Kagoshima is my home," Ennosuke answered, "and I still have a lot left to learn from you." Then he, too, got up to leave, with the help of his brother.

Kenshin had been sitting out on the inn's engawa while the men held their meeting, and he had been enjoying the fresh air. The storm, however, had cooled off the night air considerably, and he shivered as he pulled his gi tighter around himself in an attempt to keep warm. He was about to get up to go inside when he saw the men file out of the meeting room. The look on their faces was grim. The discussion must not have gone well, he guessed. He was supposed to change Ennosuke's dressings before bedtime, but given the mood of the men as they left their meeting, he decided to wait a little longer before undertaking the task.

"No haori, huh?"

Baiko was walking by on his way back to the warehouse, where he and Kenshin were to keep watch over the wagon and sleep that night. He had already dug his haori out of his bag and was bundled up against the evening chill.

"Sessha needs to earn some money to buy one before it gets much colder," Kenshin admitted sheepishly. "Perhaps I should put my spare gi on under this one to keep warm."

Baiko chuckled. "Well, don't let Ikuko-san see you like that—she'll chew you out and start mothering you."

Kenshin smiled. A bit of mothering wouldn't be so bad, would it? He pulled his gi around him even tighter. On the other hand, maybe he could offer to chop some wood for the innkeeper and earn that money right away….

He was about to get up to find Ennosuke when Orinosuke swept by. Orinosuke dropped a savage, almost triumphant glare on Kenshin, who stepped back deferentially to let him pass. Kenshin followed him with his eyes until he disappeared around the engawa's corner. He did not like the sense he was getting from Orinosuke's ki. Baiko was right—he couldn't go back on his word to Daisuke to stay with the family—but he could tell that Orinosuke was becoming more dangerous by the minute. He could only hope that whatever was causing Orinosuke's overwhelming anger right now would stay restrained until after the performance in Miyazaki.

Kenshin found Ennosuke in the dining room with Nomi on his lap. He was reading her a story, so Kenshin hung back and watched. It was such a peaceful scene, the kind of small happiness he hadn't even known existed until he had lived with Tomoe. This was what he had fought for—what he had given up his soul for—so that families could live in peace like this without fearing for their lives. He sighed. He knew that he himself could never experience this kind of happiness again. All he could hope for now was to atone for the many lives he had taken by protecting families like this from those who might harm them. He watched as Ennosuke finally closed the book and sent Nomi off to her mother. Only then did he come forward.

"Ennosuke-san," he said as he offered a hand to help Ennosuke up, "Satoshi-sensei left instructions for me to change your bandages before bedtime."

Ennosuke gratefully took the hand and, using a crutch on the other side to help, slowly got up. "Ah, time to inflict pain, is it?" he sighed melodramatically.

Kenshin followed him to the room the innkeeper had given Ennosuke and his family, then helped Ennosuke lower himself to sit on the futon. He immediately started removing the bandages and inspecting the wound, which seemed to be healing nicely. Then he took out a packet of salve and applied it to the wound, eliciting a wince and a hiss of pain from Ennosuke.

"It's really doing quite well, Ennosuke-san," Kenshin said. "There's no bleeding now, it's not red—it should be healed in no time."

"You do know a lot about medicine, don't you," Ennosuke commented. "Satoshi-sensei told me you did. He seemed quite impressed with your skills. Where did you learn them?"

Questions, Kenshin thought ruefully, always questions. He started to wrap a new set of bandages around the wound as he replied, "At one time I sold medicines, and I learned a lot just by watching others."

"Hmm." Ennosuke did not quite believe that was all there was to the story. Then, "I don't suppose you have a cure for this unbearable itch I've got inside my cast, do you?"

Kenshin chuckled. "I believe if you can find a stick thin enough to slip inside the cast to scratch with, that works quite well. Otherwise, I'm told a good bottle of sake does wonders for taking your mind off it."

Ennosuke laughed heartily. "I don't think my wife would like that solution very much!"

Kenshin joined in the laughter, then deftly tied off the bandage and closed up the packet of salve. Without looking, Kenshin could tell that Ennosuke was watching him even after he had finished up, and for once he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He was almost relieved when Ennosuke finally started talking again.

"You know," Ennosuke began, "when I was a boy, I used to be terrified of my father when I'd watch him play some of the great heroes. Such power and intensity! But I always knew he'd turn back into the friendly man I knew in real life. I thought of that today when I watched First Brother play Benkei."

"Aa," Kenshin agreed as he proceeded to roll up the old bandage. "He was truly awe-inspiring."

"No," Ennosuke continued, "I mean I was truly terrified." He stopped briefly until he had caught Kenshin's eye. Then he said, "Himura-san, my brother is not the same kind of man my father is. My brother is stern and judgmental by nature. Once he gets an idea in his head, he never lets go of it until he's either proven it or disproven it."

Kenshin wanted to look away but found he couldn't. There was something about the intensity of Ennosuke's gaze that made it impossible, and it was accompanied by an unmistakable level of concern.

"Noriko has told me what's been happening while I was at Satoshi-sensei's," Ennosuke went on. "My mother is quite taken with you. Father and Second Brother have seen nothing but the most honorable behavior from you. Even First Brother's wife has apparently accepted you, and that is no mean feat. And yet First Brother has warned me that you are a dangerous man. He is determined to prove it, and he will not give up until he does. So, as someone who is indebted to you for my very life, let me ask you outright—just what are you?"

Kenshin looked down at his hands. What was he? A killer—a killer who hated what he had been required to do, but a killer nonetheless. He could never change that. But that was all in the past, wasn't it? And now, every day for the past three years, he had fervently prayed that it would stay buried in the past.

"Ennosuke-san," Kenshin said quietly, "sessha is what you see, nothing more. Yes, this one carries a sword, but sessha has sworn never to kill—only to protect the weak from the injustices of the age. Your family has been so kind to me—surely more than this one deserves. If harm were to come to any of you, it would be more than this one could bear."

Ennosuke was somewhat taken aback at the depth of sincerity in Kenshin's answer, for after what Orinosuke had told him, he certainly hadn't expected that.

"Himura-san, I'm glad to hear it—it's relieved my mind," Ennosuke responded with relief. Then, with a smile, he added, "And I'm sure Nomi-chan will be glad, too. She seems quite taken with her new 'Uncle Ken-san,' you know."

Kenshin smiled back somewhat wistfully as he stood to leave. "She is a very happy little girl, Nomi-dono is. May nothing ever change that in her."

"Why, thank you," replied an astonished Ennosuke. "I'll tell her you said so."

Kenshin bowed low and took his leave, leaving Ennosuke with even more questions in his mind than before. Now he understood why his mother found this man to be such a mystery, for he himself was left wondering just what to make of the rather remarkable conversation that had just taken place.

****

Japanese Words:

Yakuzas: mafia-like gangs.  
Shimazu Hitamitsu: He was the daimyo of Satsuma, who was made governor when the Meiji government created the prefecture system.  
Anata: beloved.  
Otoko-san: literally, Mr. Man.  
Teishou: male innkeeper (among other meanings).  
Ikedaya: In case you don't remember, this was the inn where the Shinsengumi slaughtered an important gathering of Ishin Shishi leaders in spring of 1864.  
Black Ships: What the Japanese called Commodore Perry's ships. It was his threatening arrival that precipitated the crisis that culminated in the outbreak of the Japanese civil war.  
Gaijin: foreigner.  
Bakufu: the shogunate government.  
Engawa: porch.  
Haori: warm coat.

****

Conspirator's Note: Well, it's short, it should probably have been with chapter 5, but then I started thinking [ha—Co-C.] it really belonged to a new chapter, so I separated it out. Then life interfered—there was a death in my family, 500 miles away, and since my sister and I were the only living relatives, I had to go off and help take care of some things. When I got back, Co-Conspirator had the nerve to hog the computer to write papers and study for finals (where are her priorities, I ask you!). I was convinced that what is now Chapter 6 would eventually become the first half of a longer chapter, but it hasn't worked out. So, instead of holding it hostage for the completion of Chapter 7 (and because at least one reviewer has literally begged me to get this out), here is what almost ended up in Chapter 5, in all its short glory. Next chapter has lots of action and angst, _and_ (dare I say it without jinxing myself?) it's almost finished!! [You can say that when you finish chapter 7, not before!—Co-C.]

Thanks to all our reviewers—you've been so patient, and I promise not to make you wait so long again: Calger 459, Haku Baikou, Bishounen Hunter, BakaBokken (I sympathize…), Hitokiri oro-chan, PraiseDivineMercy, Hitokiri of the Bloodless Moon (formerly Hitokiri Elf slayer of evil), Maeve Riannon, beriath, koe 760, Shimizu Hitomi, Cattibrie393, Ayumi Ikari, Lucrecia Le Vrai, Audi Daudi, Miranda Crystal-Bearer, Wistful-Eyes, ESP, Arcueid, Corran Nackatori, Marissa Willem, Hitokiri-san., Toilet Marauder, TawnyBaka, and AmunRa.

****

Co-Conspirator's Note: At long last, I have returned! Ah, yes, the ever-notorious Chapter 5 (extra), now known as Chapter 6. Originally, we were going to have the unveiling of the secret past of the Daisuke Kabuki Family of Kagoshima as part of the original Chapter 5, but with some friendly persuasion [Friendly? I was black and blue for a week!—C.], we ended up dividing it into two separate chapters. Sorry for the delayed update. There wasn't a lot of action in this chapter, but there was some nice angst, and Kenshin gets to play the helpful boy scout (cheerful, thoughtful, thrifty, brave, reverent, kind, clean…). And remember, questions, comments, and constructive criticisms are always welcome.

Next chapter, things get messy! Bandits, poison, cold weather, and Baiko needs a teddy bear! See you there (and don't forget the popcorn)!


	7. chapter 7

Events cause Kenshin to reveal much more about himself than he would like.

And I reveal yet again that I do not own the rights to _Rurouni Kenshin_ (darn). The lucky holders include our real hero, Watsuki Nobuhiro, and those corporations smart enough to publish RK in its various formats, including Sony, Jump, Viz, etc. (Yeah, if they're so smart, why don't they animate the _real_ Jinchuu arc, and why is it taking Viz so long to bring out the translations?)

I hope you don't need this anymore, but just in case, here's the handy-dandy guide to who's who in the kabuki family:

Daisuke: also called Father, Father-in-Law.  
Ikuko: also called Mother, Mother-in-Law.  
Orinosuke: also called First Son, First Brother.  
Ryosuke: also called Second Son, Second Brother.  
Ennosuke: also called Youngest Son, Youngest Brother.

****

An Unexpected Lesson

By

Conspirator

Chapter 7

Morning dawned crisp and clear, and the air had that clean smell that only comes after there's been a good, drenching rain. The effect, as Kenshin emerged sleepy-eyed from the warehouse, was positively bracing. He pulled his gi tightly around him as the cold morning chill seeped through the thin fabric. After sleeping in the relative warmth of the warehouse, he had forgotten just how cold it had gotten the previous evening, and so he hadn't thought to slip on an extra gi for warmth. He headed for the well and drew up a bucket, intending to quickly wash his face and hair, but the cold air got the better of him. He decided to bring the bucket inside, where he could at least warm up by the small stove while he dried off.

Baiko was just coming out to do his own morning routine as Kenshin carried his bucket in. Immediately, Kenshin could sense that something was wrong. Baiko had always been unfailingly cheerful and talkative, but this morning Baiko's face was taut and his eyes grim. Like Kenshin, he too headed for the well to draw up a bucket for washing. Unlike Kenshin, however, he poured the cold water over his head without hesitation and then, after a muttered curse at the shock of the cold, walked directly back into the warehouse without saying a word.

It was none of Kenshin's business, of course. Everyone had their bad mornings, and Kenshin knew all too well that it was usually because of something one didn't want to discuss, so he ignored his companion's unusual behavior and went ahead with his own quick wash-up. Even doing so by the warmth of the fire, he found the water to be exceedingly cold, and he shook his head vigorously to shake off as much of the frigid water as he could. How in the world had Baiko managed to stand pouring such cold water over himself, he wondered, as he luxuriated in the warmth of the fire. It took all his will power to turn away from that lovely warmth, but turn away he finally did to grab his new green gi as well as his old brown one—he would need both today to keep warm.

It was as he was looking for the brown one that he noticed Baiko sitting stony-faced and still, sheathed katana in his lap and staring off into space. There was no doubt about it—something was definitely wrong.

"Baiko?" Kenshin said tentatively.

Baiko didn't answer.

"Baiko, is something the matter?" Kenshin asked again.

Baiko didn't budge, and Kenshin was about to leave him to his own thoughts when Baiko said, "Himura, you believe in premonitions?"

"Premonitions?"

"You know, the feeling something awful's about to happen."

"Sessha learned long ago never to ignore such feelings," he replied. "Why?"

"Well, I've got a premonition, about today."

"So does this one," Kenshin responded evenly, "but sessha also learned it does no good to worry about them. If nothing else, they remind us not to let our guard down."

Baiko turned to look at Kenshin, and Kenshin was surprised to find in his gaze not fear of what might happen later, but something that looked almost like sadness.

"Is it the yakuzas?" Kenshin asked when Baiko said nothing.

"You ever hear what happened up in Aizu, when the war ended up there?" Baiko finally said. "The whole province—even the women—they just refused to admit defeat, wanted to die instead. But the clincher was this one group—the White Tiger Brigade, they called themselves. They were holed up on a hill after our final victory, but instead of surrendering, they all committed seppuku—nineteen of them, all teenagers. It was our division who found them."

Baiko clenched his eyes shut as if trying to block out the image. Then he said, "Himura, it was terrible—they were just boys, all disemboweled, some of them headless, and for what? Some antiquated notion of honor? I'm no samurai—I don't see the honor in a bunch of boys slaughtering themselves, and we weren't even attacking them at the time! That's when I decided I'd had enough of war—of death! I wanted to leave the army right then and there, but they wouldn't let me, made me go on with them to Hokkaido. I thought maybe now, three years later, I was getting over it, but then yesterday, when I saw the blood on that basket, and now the prospect of having to fight these yakuzas…."

He gave a huge sigh and said, "Himura, it's not that I'm afraid to fight—I'll give as good as I get, don't you worry about that! It's just that I never want to have to see anything like that ever again. Even now I still get nightmares about what I saw."

"So does this one," Kenshin murmured softly.

"Aa, I know," Baiko said, a small smile tugging involuntarily at his mouth. At Kenshin's surprised look, he added, "You make a hell of a lot of noise when you sleep, you know."

Kenshin knew it was true, so he just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

Baiko stood up now, his mood lightened somewhat, and he started walking towards the door to go to breakfast. As Kenshin fell into step with him, Baiko said, "You know, we're damaged goods, you and I—we've seen too much blood and death."

Kenshin nodded his head in agreement.

"Does it ever get any better?" Baiko asked.

It was a question Kenshin couldn't really answer. "We can only hope," he replied wistfully.

They covered the short distance to the inn in silence, both hoping that the lively chatter that was a hallmark of the Daisuke family would lift their spirits. If nothing else, Kenshin knew that watching the children drive their parents crazy at breakfast would brighten Baiko's mood, as well as his own, but as they entered the small dining room, they were met with a grim silence. They were used to seeing all the families sitting and chatting amiably with each other, but now they were all off at their own tables and barely looking at each other. Even the children looked grim. Baiko stopped short at the doorway, not sure whether to enter or not, but Ikuko curtly waved them in, then proceeded to place some food on a table for them.

"Is something the matter, Ikuko-san?" Baiko asked before Ikuko walked away. "Is someone ill or something?"

"Ill?" she repeated curtly. "No. Angry might be more like it. Husband has given First Son permission to move back to Kyoto." She shot a withering glance at Orinosuke, who sat with his back towards everyone. It didn't take a genius to sense that the man was consumed with anger. Ikuko stormed away without saying another word.

Baiko and Kenshin looked at each other. The same thought was going through their minds—better stay out of Orinosuke's way today! They started to eat, but the atmosphere in the room was too oppressive. Baiko motioned towards the door, and he and Kenshin quietly picked up their bowls and headed outside to sit on the engawa. The early morning chill, they decided, was infinitely more preferable to them than the morose atmosphere inside. They sat and ate in silence, but the silence lasted only a few minutes, for not long after they sat down, Daisuke and the innkeeper found them. Baiko and Kenshin quickly put their bowls down so they could bow properly, but Daisuke waved the bows away.

"I've been talking with our host here," Daisuke said. "Seems they got a report this morning that the yakuzas terrorized a farm family north of here last night."

"North? That's the direction we're going!" Baiko said quickly. His premonition, he thought grimly, was coming true. "Anyone killed?"

"No," the innkeeper replied with relief, "but they were threatened. Seems the bandits came in and threatened to slit Gekko-san's throat if his family didn't turn over everything they had just harvested. They said it was to pay for insurance to make sure nothing bad happened to Jiro-san over the winter. Can you believe the nerve? Well, of course the family did what they were told—what else could they do?—but those cowards beat Gekko-san within an inch of his life anyway before they left."

"How many?" Kenshin asked.

"And how'd you find out?" Baiko added.

"His wife sent for the doctor as soon as she thought it was safe—the doctor's the one who told us about it this morning. Five men, she said, but she thinks there are more out there somewhere because they said something about reporting back to their bosses."

The innkeeper now turned to Daisuke. "Please, Daisuke-sama, don't go on that road! We've already sent some men to the army base east of here—they'll reach it by this evening. Let the army try to find this scum and capture them first!"

Daisuke shook his head. "I appreciate your concern, but we must reach Miyazaki by tonight. The bosses the farmer's wife mentioned are probably the disgraced samurai we heard about from the other side of the mountain—Nobu by name. We were told at our last stop that they've become criminals and are extorting money all over the area. It sounds like they're not dirtying their own hands, though, so maybe it's really only the five bandits who raided the farm that we have to worry about. We've got five good men of our own—two of my sons, myself, and these two men here—and we all know how to use a sword. I think we'll be able to hold our own, if worst comes to worst."

"But Daisuke-sama….!"

"We have no choice," Daisuke said with a finality that ended the conversation.

The innkeeper bowed and took his leave, sighing and wringing his hands as he went.

"Our host worries that if we're attacked, Shimazu-sama will somehow blame it on him," Daisuke said with a dark laugh when the man was out of earshot.

"Well, he's got a point," Baiko responded. "I mean, about us being attacked. I've had this feeling ever since I woke up this morning that something's gonna happen to us today. Haven't felt it this bad since I was in the army."

Daisuke sighed. "What other choice do we have?" he said in a resigned voice. "We're scheduled to perform in Miyazaki tomorrow—a command performance—and that's that. Anyway, it would be dishonorable to cower in the face of something we're not sure will even happen. I've talked this over with my sons. We all agree we should travel as planned but take extra precautions just in case. And if we are attacked, it's been decided that we will fight back. Five against five—that's not bad odds."

"But…," Baiko started to say.

Daisuke turned a steely eye on his security guard. "I know what you're about to say—that my sons and I would be useless in a fight." Baiko was about to protest, but Daisuke stopped him. "First Son overheard what you said the other day, and I can understand why you'd think so, but let me reassure you—my sons and I are all trained in the martial arts. You may only see us doing the kata for kabuki swordplay, but when we're home in Kagoshima, we all train weekly at a dojo. And with two former soldiers like yourselves to help…." He turned to Kenshin and added, "You _are_ a former soldier, aren't you?"

Kenshin was about to answer when Baiko suddenly guffawed. Former soldier? Hell, what would Daisuke do if he knew just which soldier this was!

A look of doubt crossed Daisuke's face. "My grandson Bunjiro told me you were a former soldier, and my wife was so sure that you were…."

"Hai, I am a former soldier," Kenshin said quickly as he gave a warning look to Baiko. All he needed now was to have Baiko inadvertently give away his identity.

Daisuke looked relieved. "Imperial, Bunjiro-chan tells me."

"Hai, Imperial," Kenshin confirmed.

"Well, that's fine—you had me worried there for a moment, because if you weren't a soldier, then that would really be only four of us up against five thieves, and those odds aren't so good. So, then, that's settled." Then he clapped both men on the back and left.

"Why doesn't this make me feel any better?" muttered Baiko. He stuffed another portion of breakfast into his mouth, then stood to leave. "Come on, Himura, let's get going. Might as well get on the road sooner rather than later."

Within an hour, they were on the road again, despite the desperate last-minute protests of the innkeeper. Daisuke, however, was not taking any chances. He ordered the man he considered to be his best swordsman, Baiko, to walk on the side of the wagon where Kenshin had been the previous days and moved Kenshin, whom he considered to be a swordsman of unknown capability, to the rear. The women, instead of walking next to their husbands, were also moved to the rear, where they could be hustled into the wagon quickly in case of attack. As for the children, the two oldest, Bunjiro and Byako, were told to stay with the women, much to their dismay, while the youngest were ordered to ride in the wagon—no wandering around or playing for them today!

Kenshin had never had to guard a wagon from behind before. Given the level of his skill, he had always been detailed by the Ishin Shishi to the front of a convoy or, at worst, the side. Now he saw why Baiko had been so annoyed at being given this position—it was impossible to see anything up ahead. As they walked down the road, Kenshin of course cast out his senses for any hint of danger, but he felt crippled by the inability to use his eyesight as well. He tried walking to the left of the wagon, then to the right, but who could tell what split-second clue he might miss in the meantime?

As for sensing ki, it was a major annoyance to have to cut his way through the mass of emotions coming from the women. He remembered how, long ago, he wondered if women even had a ki. He knew better now, of course, and these women certainly proved the point. From the usually sunny Noriko, he could sense unease, and from the normally placid Mei, a feeling close to tears. It wasn't worry over yakuzas up ahead that bothered them, he could tell, but the possible break-up of this extended family. As for Orinosuke's wife Mayako, he didn't need to sense her ki—he could tell just by looking at her that her overweaning pride had been wounded by the argument between her husband and his father. And as for Ikuko, he now knew where Orinosuke got his temper from, for her ki was boiling almost as much as her son's had been when he had taken out after Kenshin the previous day.

So, it was with not a little trepidation that he saw Ikuko move back to fall into step with him. He had only known Ikuko as a friendly, rather motherly woman, but now her jaw had a hard set to it. It reminded him of some illustrations he had seen once of a fierce warrior. He nodded to her as she joined him.

"Shameful," she said to him through gritted teeth. "It was shameful what he did to you."

"Pardon?" responded a somewhat confused Kenshin. He had been expecting a tirade, not this.

"First Son—what he did to you yesterday," she continued. "Husband told me all about it last night. Putting a sword to your throat—shameful!"

Kenshin relaxed a bit as he realized that she wasn't angry with him. "No harm came to anyone," he reassured her.

She looked at him now with a gaze that made him feel like she was trying to read _his_ ki. Not knowing if she had the ability or not, he quickly concealed his thoughts from her scrutiny. Then she said, "Husband tells me you showed great restraint when First Son drew his sword against you." She looked at him sharply to gauge his reaction; she saw only a slight tensing of his jaw. "In fact," she continued, "he says you didn't even flinch. You're either a very brave young man or a very foolish one to meet such a threat so calmly."

She saw his jaw tense a little more. A strange reaction, she thought.

"Himura-san," she went on, "most men would have drawn their swords at what First Son did, and who knows what might have happened then. It's no secret that I am very angry at him for tearing this family apart, but he is my son. I am grateful to you for showing such restraint."

Kenshin relaxed slightly. For a moment there, he thought Orinosuke might have mentioned his suspicions to her. As it was, he didn't really know what to say in response. If only she knew how much will-power it had taken to hold back his killer instinct at that attack. "I had no wish to make the situation worse," he finally said lamely.

They walked along a bit more in silence. Then she said, "I would never presume to ask what led you to take the path of a rurouni. I do know that should you wish to leave that path, you could be assured of a job with us in Kagoshima. You _are_ traveling back to Kagoshima with us, aren't you?"

Kenshin hesitated a moment, then said, "Sessha thinks that might not be wise, under the circumstances."

"Because of First Son? No, I think now that his father has offered him the freedom to return to Kyoto, his anger will wither away. He won't cause any more problems for you." She patted his hand and said, "You think about it." Then she went to rejoin her daughters-in law.

He watched with a sinking feeling in his heart as she walked back towards the wagon. His position, he realized, was becoming increasingly untenable. There was no way, of course, that he could accept her offer. Even if by some miracle Orinosuke didn't discover his true identity, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone else did. He didn't like to contemplate what might happen then—there was no denying that people had been killed just because they had shown kindness towards him. It hurt him to admit it, for it had been a very long time since anyone had made him feel so accepted and welcome. He realized suddenly that while he wasn't looking, these people had somehow woven him into the very fabric of their family, that somehow, for some reason he couldn't fathom, they seemed to care about him. He began to feel a longing he hadn't felt in a long time—the longing for a home and a family.

No sooner did he think it, though, than the darkness of his past swirled in to claim him. Beneath his calm exterior, he knew, there still lurked the skill and ruthlessness of the hitokiri he used to be. It was no accident that he never stayed in one place very long. Who could tell if or when that ruthlessness might unleash itself, might cause the death of someone he held dear, just as it had done to the only person he had ever loved. If he had been told, when Katsura first asked him to deliver heaven's justice to the enemies of the Ishin Shishi, that by saying yes he would forever forfeit the chance to know happiness, would he still have said yes?

He shook his head—he had to stop with the 'what-ifs.' What was done, was done; all he could do now was live with the consequences. He had promised Daisuke he would stay and help the family until Ennosuke could return to the stage; tomorrow would be the big performance for Shimazu-sama in Miyazaki. He resolved that no matter what, he would take his leave after that. He just prayed that no one discovered his identity in the meantime.

His resolve now firmly in place, he turned his full attention back to the road. One thing became immediately clear—unlike the small country road they had traveled on the previous days, this one was a main highway, yet still they seemed to be the lone travelers. The small shops and stalls that lined the road for the first few miles out of town were all shuttered, except for one or two lone vegetable stands. Yet the town they left was apparently a main destination for people in the Miyazaki area who enjoyed hot springs. Most roads of this size, he also knew, were usually kept immaculately clean and manicured, but it looked like no one had tended this road for several days. They passed two small villages in short order, but at their approach, he saw the farmers and townsfolk rush inside their houses and lock their gates. There could be no doubt about it—the bandits had been active in the area and, by the look of things, relatively recently.

He slowly began to feel the tense edginess that had been his constant companion during those long years of the Bakumatsu—that state of hyper-alertness in which his every nerve was attuned to the slightest change in his surroundings. They were walking into danger, and it was his job to protect from that danger. If that meant unleashing the power of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, then so be it, even if that meant revealing who he really was. He would not let this family be harmed.

The morning seemed to pass at a snail's pace as he searched every inch of road with his eyes and strained his ears to catch the slightest unusual sound. His concentration never wavered until Orinosuke's two boys suddenly got into a fistfight and fell backwards, almost knocking him over. He quickly sidestepped the flailing mass of arms and legs, then reached down and grabbed them both by the scruffs of their necks. The boys continued shouting at each other until their mother, Mayako, ran up, horrified by their behavior, and smacked them both on the face. Kenshin quickly dropped the boys and stood before them to prevent her hitting them again.

"Move aside, Himura-san," she growled dangerously. "It's time I put a stop to this foolishness."

He didn't move.

"Out of my way!" she sputtered angrily. She was not used to being crossed by anyone! Then she saw that the wagon was leaving them behind, so she reached out to grab the boys and drag them forward.

"If Mayako-dono would allow," Kenshin said as he continued to stand in her way, "sessha will put them to work so they won't fight anymore."

She glared back at him. "How dare you interfere!" she hissed. Then, as if all the stuffing had suddenly come out of her, she sighed. "Perhaps that would be best," she said, defeat her voice. "They have been nothing but trouble since Husband told them last night that we might be moving to Kyoto." She glared at her sons once more, then warned them, "Himura-san has my permission to do whatever he needs to keep you from fighting, you understand?"

The boys muttered 'yes,' then turned back to glaring at each other as she walked away, shoulders uncharacteristically slumped. Kenshin now turned to the boys and said, "Do you realize that the two of you have endangered this entire convoy with your behavior?"

"But he said it was my fault we have to move to Kyoto!" Bunjiro burst out. "He said it was because I wanted to be a soldier!" And he tried again to land a punch on his brother.

Kenshin grabbed him by the arm and looked him in the eye.

"Bunjiro-san," he said in his sternest voice, "if you persist in wanting to be a soldier, then it's high time you acted like one. Control your emotions!"

Bunjiro stared at him in surprise, then immediately stood up straight and said, "Hai, gunshou-san."

"And that goes for you, too, Byako-san," Kenshin added when Byako started to laugh at his brother's behavior. "And I meant what I said about putting you to work. It's high time you helped keep us safe on this road. You know there may be great danger ahead, but we have no way of knowing where or when. You will help me search for the bandits that may be lying in wait."

"We will?" Bunjiro said in a surprised voice.

"Bunjiro-san, you will take the right side of the wagon, Byako-san the left. Sessha needs you to watch for any signs of unusual movement—birds that have been startled out of the trees, animals that have been scared out of the grass—anything that makes you think a human is hiding up ahead. Sessha can only look down one side of the road at a time—you two will be my eyes and ears while this one is on the other side."

"Wow," Bunjiro whistled softly as the importance of the task became clear to him.

"Yeah, wow," Byako repeated in the same hushed voice.

He pushed them off to their respective posts, chuckling as he watched them start to emulate the swagger of the men in front of them. As he expected, they started informing him of every little ripple of grass or flight of a bird, but after about fifteen minutes they settled down nicely, reporting only truly interesting sights, like a flock of birds that suddenly took to the air and two chipmunks who unexpectedly darted across the road. And in truth, these were occurrences he himself would have noted. Both times he cast out all his senses for any hints of danger. He found none, but he was still left with the growing feeling that the bandits were not far off. It was nothing he could put his finger on, but long experience told him not to ignore his intuition.

It was more than an hour after he had set the boys to scouting when he finally felt it—the unmistakable feeling that they were being watched. Byako had just sighted a family of quail that had suddenly shot out onto the road from the underbrush. Kenshin had been on the other side of the wagon at the time, but he managed, even from his vantage point, to see the panic of the birds as they flapped across the road. No one else, not even Baiko, seemed to think much of it, but he knew better. He crossed over to Byako's side of the wagon and scanned the undergrowth and the thicket behind it. There, in a tree far down the road, he could just make out a slight movement in the crotch of the tree. Whoever it was seemed to make no move to come down, but the ki was hostile. He motioned to Bunjiro to come over.

"Bunjiro-san, an important job for you," he said quietly. "Sessha needs you to get Baiko-san, but you must do it so that no one, not even your mother, knows you are doing it. And tell Baiko-san he must do likewise."

"Hai, Kenshin-gunshou," Bunjiro whispered theatrically, and he sauntered off, for all the world looking like he was just out for a walk. A good actor, Kenshin noted.

Baiko, for his part, just slowed his walking until Kenshin came abreast of him. The two didn't even look at each other as Kenshin said softly, "We're being watched."

Baiko showed no reaction, but he said, "So you feel it, too."

"Aa," Kenshin replied. "There's someone in one of the trees on Ryosuke-san's side of the wagon, down near that bend in the road. It's too far for me to tell yet how many there are."

Baiko glanced off in the direction Kenshin mentioned. "I don't see a thing," he said, "but I can feel it in my bones. Maybe we better get the women in the wagon now, while they can't see us doing it. I'll have Ennosuke-san slow down so they can get in without our having to stop. And you let Ryosuke-san know. I'll take care of telling Daisuke-san and Orinosuke-san."

Kenshin nodded his head imperceptably, and the two separated as inconspicuously as they had come together. The boys had been watching the whole time, so he silently motioned them over.

"We are being watched by the bandits," he informed them quietly, "and now you must do exactly as sessha tells you, without question."

They nodded solemnly.

"Byako-san, you are to walk over to your uncle Ryosuke-san to tell him this news, but you must do it so that it looks like you are merely going for a stroll with your uncle. And you must tell your uncle that he must show no reaction whatsoever—just to be ready for whatever might happen. Bunjiro-san, as the wagon slows down, you are to help the women to get in, even though the wagon's still moving. Tell them to keep the children inside as quiet as possible. When you have have finished your assignments, you must join the women in the wagon."

"But….!"

Kenshin turned a stern eye on the boys. "A soldier never questions his orders! You are needed to guard the opening to the wagon. You both have your bokkens. If anyone attacks, you will be up high enough that you should be able to whack any attacker on the head. Now, go!"

He watched as Byako skipped seemingly nonchalantly over to Ryosuke and pulled on his sleeve. The man bent down to listen, then patted the boy on the head and gave him a push to send him back to Kenshin. It looked for all the world like a normal conversation. He was struck once again by what good actors even the children of this family were. Bunjiro, for his part, was all business as he helped the women into the wagon. The women seemed surprised at first, but they quickly followed his orders once they saw Kenshin nod his approval.

The wagon picked up speed again once the women were safely inside, and as it came closer to the bend in the road, Kenshin could sense the presence of several men—five or six, from what he could tell—but still there was no sign of movement on their part. As the wagon was just about to start around the bend, his eyes finally caught a flash of color dropping from a tree into the brush, and the bending of the branches of an overgrown bush as someone pushed by it. Now he could tell there was more than one group of men—six near the road, another two—or was it three?—somewhat farther behind. He strained to catch that last, faint hint of ki, but it was gone. Maybe he was getting rusty after three years of wandering, but he could have sworn there was a third ki there….

They rounded the corner now to find three of the men blocking the road, swords drawn. The wagon stopped as Daisuke and Orinosuke walked forward to meet them. Ryosuke, who was standing forward of Kenshin, moved slightly closer to hear what they were saying, but Kenshin's whole attention was riveted to the thicket at his side, for his keen ears had picked up the sounds of movement, and he could sense the ki of the other three men. As long as they made no move, however, he decided that he, too, would make no move. It was entirely possible, he figured, that all these bandits wanted was to extort some money from unsuspecting travelers, and that once paid, they would let the wagon go on its way.

Suddenly, there were shouts from the front as one of the men grabbed Daisuke by the neck from behind. Ryosuke ran forward to aid his father and brother, but as he did, the three men shot out from the thicket and made for the back of the wagon.

"Ryosuke, no!" Kenshin shouted as he realized what was going on. The blockade had been a ruse—a trick designed to draw the men to the front while the rest of the bandits raided from the rear! From the corner of his eye, he noted that Daisuke had just flipped his attacker over his head, and that Baiko and Ryosuke had joined Orinosuke to engage the other two swordsmen, but it would be too late before they realized that the real danger was back here.

Kenshin now ran with lightening speed towards the three attackers as they emerged from the thicket onto the road. Before they could even register his presence, he was upon them. The men were clumsy, not even fast enough to draw their swords in time, but Kenshin showed no mercy. With one broad, upward swing of his sakabatou, he sent the first man flying. The second man tried to stop himself in time to run away, but Kenshin was too fast—with his downward stroke, he hit the man across the spine, breaking his back. The man crumpled like a rag doll. He was about to take care of the third man when he saw Ryosuke run up and begin a powerful roundhouse kick. Who knew Ryosuke was so accomplished at kempo, he thought briefly!

With the third man clearly under Ryosuke's control, Kenshin turned his attention to the two powerful ki's that now flared from deeper in the woods. And there was that hint of the third ki again—or was there a fourth? He flew forward at blinding speed, ignoring the branches and brambles tearing at his clothes and skin, until he found what he was looking for—two samurai hiding behind the barrier of a huge, downed tree trunk. He skidded to a stop and said, "Your comrades are defeated—it is time for this to end!"

He was about to make good on his threat when suddenly, from his left, he heard the sound of something whistling through the air. He spun around just in time to avoid being struck in the neck by a shuriken. A ninja! No wonder that third ki had been so elusive! But no sooner had he spun away from the left than he heard the sound of another shuriken coming from the right. A second ninja! These two samurai had bodyguards! He didn't have time to twist away from this one, so he launched himself skyward. The second shuriken grazed only his shoulder, which was infinitely preferable to the alternative, he figured. He landed behind the two samurai, knowing that the ninjas would not dare throw anything in this direction lest they hit their employers by mistake.

"Red hair?" he heard one of the samurai sputter as they got a good look at him. "It can't be…he's supposed to be dead!…. Gods, it's the Hitokiri Battousai!"

The two samurai frantically rose to attack now, but Kenshin had already started running away from them, trying to draw the two apart and to keep the ninjas from throwing anything else. He let the first samurai close the distance, then spun suddenly on his heel and unleashed a powerful downward blow that hit the man from his neck to his groin; the upswing caught him across the back, flinging him into a tree trunk. The man sank to the ground in a heap.

The second samurai was upon him now, a look of total shock on his face as he watched his brother fall, but he clearly had some formal training for he assumed what looked like a Jigen-style battoujutsu stance.

"You scum of the new government!" the samurai growled out angrily. "How dare you threaten the Nobu brothers!" Then he flew forward at Kenshin with all the speed he could muster.

Kenshin settled into battoujutsu stance as well and watched as the man came towards him. The man was running as fast as he could, but to Kenshin, it almost seemed like slow motion. He waited until the very last second, then drew out his blade in a blinding burst of speed. In less than a second, he had swept the man away with blows to his abdomen, chest, and neck. This man, too, crumpled to the ground.

Now Kenshin whirled around to find the ninjas, for with the two samurai defeated, he knew the ninjas would attack again. As he did, he saw Ryosuke arrive, but one of the ninjas saw him as well, for Kenshin saw a tell-tale flash of metal leave one of the trees.

"Ryosuke!" Kenshin shouted as he heard an unmistakable whir in the air. "Watch out—shuriken!"

Ryosuke immediately dropped to the ground, using his acrobatic skills to roll safely away. The shuriken clattered to the ground harmlessly. Now the ninja jumped down, clearly intent upon landing a lethal chop to Ryosuke's neck. Ryosuke was quick, however. Once again he rolled away, then jumped up into a back flip to prepare for open-hand combat, but his skill was no match for the ninja. He tried to land a blow right below the ninja's ribcage, but the ninja easily slipped behind and started whirling around to strike again. Just as the ninja was preparing his attack, though, Baiko burst into the clearing. It took him less than a second to realize Ryosuke's predicament; he lunged forward and slammed the hilt of his sword into the back of the ninja's neck, bringing him down.

Now Kenshin heard the sound of yet another shuriken sailing through the air from the other direction—the second ninja was not about to give up. It was a foolish move, for the shuriken showed Kenshin exactly which tree the ninja was hiding in. He easily evaded the weapon, then started flipping forward towards the ninja's hiding place, making himself an impossible target to hit. As he landed, the ninja flew down at him, leg extended and aimed for Kenshin's head. Kenshin quickly swung his sword in a huge, upward arc, hitting the man's outstretched leg from underneath and flipping him backward. Then, before the man could hit the ground, Kenshin followed with a downward blow to the ninja's arm just at the elbow, severing the man's tendon. There would be no more shuriken-throwing from this man ever again. There was a sickening snap of breaking bones as the ninja fell heavily to the ground, his leg and mangled arm sticking out grotesquely at his side.

Kenshin looked up now to see Orinosuke running up, a bleeding gash on his arm, followed by Daisuke. They looked around in amazement at the scene, then rushed to check the state of the four unconscious attackers. It was only now that Kenshin realized that something was wrong. That little graze on his shoulder from the first shuriken was burning like fire, and his breathing felt unnaturally heavy. He knelt on the ground, trying to catch his breath but having trouble doing so.

"My god, what have you done?" he heard Orinosuke cry from the vicinity of one of the ninjas Kenshin had just defeated. It sounded foggy, like he had cotton in his ears. "You've killed them! Hitokiri! You've killed them!"

He felt someone grab his arm and pull him up, but his legs didn't seem to want to cooperate. Then the hand was gone, and he sank back down to his knees.

"Orinosuke-san, stop it!" It was Baiko. "They're all alive! He's killed no one!"

"Orinosuke-san," Kenshin managed to say, "sessha does not kill."

"What the hell are you saying, man?" Orinosuke yelled. "Look at them!"

Kenshin slowly laid his sword on the ground in front of him so they all could see it. Why did it feel so heavy all of the sudden? "It is… a sakabatou," he panted. "It… cannot kill."

He saw, through a gathering fog, Baiko bend down to touch the dull edge—the side that should have been razor sharp. "Well, I'll be damned—he's right!" he heard him say, but it was like listening through water.

Now Baiko, too, realized that something was dreadfully wrong—Kenshin was as pale as death and beginning to sway on his knees. He rushed to Kenshin's side and saw blood on the shoulder of his gi. He bent to touch it, but Kenshin said, "Don't—there's poison. A shuriken… poison."

"What?!"

"Baiko," Kenshin whispered, too weak now to do anything else, "quick—my travel bag… some water."

He heard a commotion around him now, shouts to the others, but all he knew was that his heart was slowing down, and he could barely breathe. The poison was working fast. Moments later, Baiko returned with the travel bag and Bunjiro in tow with a small bucket of water from the wagon's water barrel and a cup.

"The packet with foxglove…," Kenshin panted. "Two pinches, in water…."

Baiko did as he was told, then helped Kenshin drink the concoction. The effect was immediate—his heart started pounding rapidly, and his breathing became less labored. The black that had started blotting out his vision began to clear away, and he became aware that the men, and some of the women, were surrounding him. Now he felt someone pull his two gi's down from his shoulder and splash cold water over the wound. Then the tip of a sword as it cut through the clotted blood to form a fresh wound. More water now, then the feel of one of his healing salves. He looked up to see Baiko performing the work. He let him finish before attempting to stand, grabbing Baiko's hand for support.

It was as he stood that it suddenly dawned on him that everyone was awfully quiet. He looked around to find everyone staring at him with incomprehension.

"He'll have the government on our backs with this slaughter, you mark my words," he heard Orinosuke say.

"Stop it!" Daisuke hissed back. "The man just saved our family. Are you blind? There were ninjas, for heaven's sake! And I thought there were only five or six swordsmen to worry about…." He shook his head, then turned to Kenshin and said, "Are you well enough to travel?"

"Aa," Kenshin answered, his breath coming in short huffs, but at least coming more easily. He took a few steps forward, feeling some strength returning to his legs. "I'm just tired now, that's all."

He waved away the outstretched arms that were offered to help him walk—he needed to do this on his own—but he didn't need to look back to know there were stares following him. Ryosuke's ki, in particular, seemed particularly agitated—much more so than the others, and that was saying a lot. Well, Kenshin thought grimly as he walked, the man had just seen him in action; it was inevitable that what he saw would raise disturbing questions in his mind. As he reached the wagon, he saw Ikuko standing at the rear. For once, he reached out on his own to grasp her hand, for his legs were starting to shake from just this short walk.

"Himura-san! Are you all right?" she cried out. "Why, you're injured! Children, quick—out of the way! We need to let Himura-san in!"

"Don't touch him, Mother!" Orinosuke called as he ran up. "He's a killer, I tell you! A demon! You don't know what he's done out there!"

Ryosuke grabbed Orinosuke roughly by the arm and spun him around. "Not a demon—he's a master!" Then, turning to Kenshin, he said, almost accusingly, "Why didn't you tell us you were a master swordsman?"

"No, Ryosuke-san, not a master," Kenshin said in a tired voice. "Sessha never got that far." Then he turned back to the wagon and slowly climbed in and sank down on the bench. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

Ryosuke now looked back at the fallen and bleeding bodies of the bandits. "Let's get away from this godforsaken place," he said with a shudder.

"We can't just leave these men here!" his wife Mei said in a horrified voice. "They might die!"

"Let them, then," said Orinosuke as he tended to the gash on his arm. "The villages around here seem to be fairly close together—there's bound to be one not far from here. Let's just get to the next one and tell them what's happened. Let them deal with it."

"Good idea," agreed Daisuke. "Anata, you stay in the wagon with Himura-san, make sure he's okay. The rest of you can walk—I think we'll be safe enough now."

And so the caravan started down the road once again, relieved that the danger was past but clearly unsettled by what had transpired.

As Orinosuke had predicted, they came upon a fairly large town less than half an hour later. As with the other towns and villages they had passed through, the people on the edge of town ran for their houses at their approach and watched them with suspicious eyes so that Daisuke was forced to knock at a gate to ask for directions to a police station. When he told the man why he needed the directions, the man yelled, "Thank the gods—the bandits are gone!" and he did a little jig in celebration. Then he took Daisuke by the arm, saying "This is the happiest day of my life! Those bloodsuckers have killed business around here!" Then he led Daisuke off to find the authorities.

Kenshin was oblivious to it all—he had fallen into a deep sleep brought on by his near brush with death. His sleep, however, was not peaceful. At first, he tossed and turned due to the after-effects of the foxglove, which had made his heart race. Then he lay moaning as he began to sweat profusely, despite the coolness of the day. Ikuko tried to make him comfortable through it all, but as he lay sweating, she decided to take his two gi's off and replace it with a thin yukata. It wasn't very hard to do—he weighed next to nothing, compared to her own sons—and it did make him more comfortable. What she saw, however, reminded her once again how hard a life this young man must have led, for on his chest were three old scars from what looked like swords. She had taken a liking to Kenshin since he had come into their lives, and it broke her motherly heart now to think that he had had to endure such suffering during his short life. She sighed, then reached for her needle and thread to mend to tears the shuriken had made in the sleeves of the two gi.

Finally, much to Ikuko's relief, Kenshin seemed to sleep more peacefully. The police had convinced them to stay for awhile to recover from their ordeal and to have lunch, and now it had been nearly two hours since the incident on the road. She fully expected that Kenshin would continue to sleep peacefully now and wake up refreshed.

Instead, Kenshin began muttering, then tossing and turning once again. He knew he had been asleep, but when he opened his eyes and looked around, he found himself not at an inn, where he expected to be, but on the battlefield of Toba Fushimi. It made no sense to him, but there he was amidst the smoke and fire of that hellish place. He quickly jumped to his feet and unsheathed his katana as wave upon wave of bakufu troops flew at him and his comrades. In short order, he had killed dozens, and he felt his heart pounding and his body sweating profusely from the exertion. From afar he heard the sounds of an artillery barrage, but around him were only the cries of the soldiers and the moans of the dead and dying. He hated it—he hated the blood and the slaughter and the waste of human life—but it was today, he knew, that it all might be over.

Then suddenly, in the midst of yet another fight with an enemy soldier, everything fell quiet. The hordes of enemy soldiers seemed to fade away. He saw the standard of Chousu being raised over the battlefield, and a cry went up that the bakufu had been defeated. It was done—their need for him to kill was over! He was free! He dropped his katana and wakazashi and started to walk away, but his swords would not leave him. He threw them down once again, but like magic, they flew right back into his hands. Now he saw in horror that the dead on the battlefield were surrounding him, pointing their fingers at him accusingly. He tried a third time to throw away his killing swords and walk away, but the swords refused to be discarded. 'Killer, killer!' he heard the dead hiss. He started running, but they continued to follow, pointing their fingers in accusation. His swords now stuck to his hands, and as he looked at them, he saw blood dripping from them in a never-ending stream. 'Leave me alone!' he cried out at his swords. 'Leave me alone!'

"Leave me alone!"

He shot up, wild-eyed, to find someone trying to hold him back. It was Baiko.

"Take it easy! Take it easy!" Baiko was saying. "You're having a bad dream!"

Behind Baiko, Kenshin could see Ikuko, a worried look on her face and a feeling almost of fear coming from her ki. He stopped struggling, and Baiko let up a bit on his hold. Now Baiko leaned down to Kenshin's ear and said, so only he could hear, "You'd better plaster a smile on that face of yours, Himura, 'cause you've scared Ikuko-san shitless with that nightmare of yours."

"What…?" Kenshin started to say, but Baiko roughly cut him off.

"Don't ask, just do it!" he ordered urgently. "Now!"

Kenshin was taken aback by Baiko's harshness, but he quickly followed his command and put a small, if somewhat vacant, smile on his face. He felt Ikuko's fear and tenseness start to dissipate. He was surprised at how quickly such a fake smile could disarm a person's worry.

"Sessha is fine, now—really," Kenshin said to her through the smile. "The nightmare—it was just an after-effect of the poison." It was a lie, but better than telling her the truth, he figured.

Baiko made a show of feeling Kenshin's forehead for fever, then turned to Ikuko and said, "I think he'll be fine now, but why don't you leave the two of us alone for a moment so I can check him over." He started undoing the bandage on Kenshin's shoulder to show what he meant.

"Yes, that's probably for the best.," Ikuko said in a worried voice. "I was so concerned about you, Himura-san…."

Kenshin turned on an even bigger smile now. "Please forgive this one for worrying you," he said as sincerely as he could.

Ikuko smiled back, then left the wagon,. As she did, Kenshin's smile disappeared. He turned to Baiko and said, "What the hell was that all about?"

"Listen, Himura, I know you couldn't help it—hell, you saved our asses back there—but now _everyone_ is wondering about you, not just Old Sourpuss. We've been parked in this town over an hour now, and the whole time Orinosuke-san's been saying, 'See, I'm right—he _is_ dangerous.' Everyone heard it—_she_ heard it. You needed to reassure her right away that you're what she thought you were."

"And what's that?" Kenshin asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Why, harmless, of course!"

Kenshin laughed grimly. "Baiko, it's no use trying to pretend any longer. They've seen what I am…."

"Yeah, well, you've certainly got them confused—Ennosuke in particular," Baiko said. "Seems you told him you were a nobody who protected people with his sword but didn't kill? The way you fought, it was pretty clear you're not just some nobody. He's having a real tough time right now figuring that out. And what's with this sakabatou thing, anyway?"

Kenshin gave him a cold look. That was information he would share with no one.

"Okay, okay, I have no right to ask, and you don't have to tell me," Baiko said quickly, "but you could've at least warned me! You know, you shaved a few years off my life a couple of times when Orinosuke-san tried to beat up on you—I was sure he was a goner!"

"You see what this one means?" Kenshin said bitterly. "You knew who this one was, and that's all you expected from me. If sessha couldn't convince _you_ that this one isn't like that anymore, what hope does this one have of convincing anyone else—of living any kind of normal life? You know, Ikuko-san all but offered me a job with them in Kagoshima. Do you know how much this one wants to say yes? But it can't be."

He stopped then, for he now he noticed he was wearing an unfamiliar yukata. "Say, where are my clothes?!"

Baiko looked around and found the two gi folded neatly on top of one of the trunks. "Looks like Ikuko-san's fixed those rips for you," he said as he handed them to Kenshin. "Listen, Orinosuke-san came this close to telling his father who he thinks you are, but his father cut him off before he could finish. As far as most of them are concerned, you're a hero, you saved their lives, and that's that. Ryosuke-san's convinced you're a master swordsman and can't figure out why you'd hide that from them, Daisuke-san thinks you have some deep, dark secret that has to do with some tragedy during the Bakumatsu, and the women—well, they're just freaked out by the broken bodies they saw and can't figure out how a nice guy like you managed to do that to them. You understand now why you need to plaster that smile on your face?"

Kenshin sighed. "Baiko, we haven't known each other very long, but you've been a good friend. Aa, sessha will do as you say."

He finished tying his gi and tucked them into his hakama, then followed Baiko from the wagon. Immediately, he knew that something was different, for as soon as he emerged, everyone stopped talking and looked at him. He stopped, not knowing what to do, until he felt Baiko's elbow in his ribs.

"Smile," Baiko hissed through clenched teeth.

Kenshin hid his eyes beneath his bangs and smiled the vacant smile he had used on Ikuko just a few minutes earlier. Then he followed Baiko to wherever he was going. He had no idea where that was, but he decided that wherever it was, it would be better than standing at the wagon with everyone's eyes glued to him. He hadn't gotten far before Mayako came up, bearing a tray with bowls of cold rice, tofu, and apples. She gave a formal, deep bow and said, "Your lunch, Himura-san."

Kenshin stared at her in surprise, then returned the bow, making sure to bow lower. Mayako now bowed even lower, almost dropping the tray in the process.

"Himura-san," she said stiffly as she held the tray out to him, "please allow me this courtesy—it is we who should be bowing to you."

Kenshin felt Baiko's elbow in his ribs again. He turned on the smile, then managed a weak, "Arigatou, Mayako-dono." She bowed low a third time, then backed away.

"Really, Himura-san, you shouldn't be ashamed of what you did back there," Ikuko now said as she came up with a cup of hot tea for him. They were waiting on him, he realized, and it made him feel uncomfortable. "The gods have given you a mighty gift, and you used it honorably, to protect us. Allow us to at least show our appreciation!" Then she, too, bowed low.

"Ikuko-dono, please," Kenshin said uncertainly, "sessha does not deserve your praise…."

Once again he felt the elbow in his ribs. "Shut up and say thanks," Baiko whispered.

Kenshin's lunch tray nearly tumbled out of his hands, but he caught it in time, then added, "…but this one appreciates the thought."

"You know, you didn't have to hide your talents from us," Ikuko continued as she bowed to take her leave. "This family does appreciate the sword arts, you know." Then she walked off to help wash up the lunch dishes.

"What the hell is going on?" Kenshin finally asked once he and Baiko were alone again. He had fully expected to be greeted by disgust, if not outright hostility, at what he had done. Instead, he was being treated like some kind of royalty. It just didn't make sense!

"It's like I said—they don't know what to think of you anymore," Baiko said. He stood now as he saw Orinosuke wave him over. "If you want to keep them from asking too many questions, you'd better reassure them pretty quick that you're just a run-of-the-mill former soldier who's taken to wandering the countryside. I gotta go—time to hitch up the horse. You up to walking now?"

Kenshin still had a somewhat dazed look on his face, but he said, "Aa, sessha can walk…."

"Good." Then Baiko left him to finish his lunch.

Kenshin hadn't realized how hungry he was until he took that first bite of apple, but now he tucked into his food with gusto. Between the exertion from the fight and the shock to his body from the poison, he had worked up quite an appetite, and so he did not notice until the last second that someone was running towards him with the speed that only a three-year-old can muster. Barely in the nick of time, he managed to put his tray to the side before all thirty pounds of Nomi pushed him back with a huge hug. It sent a small shot of pain through his shoulder as he fell back on his elbows.

"Kenshin-san!" she called out. "You're all better!"

Kenshin slowly sat up laughing and said, "Aa, Nomi-dono, all better, de gozaru yo!"

Now Noriko ran up, bowing and apologizing profusely as she pulled Nomi off him.

"Oh, Himura-sama, please forgive Nomi-chan! Nomi, you mustn't do that to Himura-sama—you've hurt his shoulder again!"

Himura-sama?

"No, no, Noriko-dono, not '-sama'—sessha is just a rurouni!" Kenshin said quickly.

"But we had no idea you were a master swordsman…," she started to say.

Kenshin cut her off. "And sessha is not a master swordsman!" He made sure he had a smile on his face when he said it, for Noriko was looking totally bewildered.

"Himura-sama—I mean, Himura-san," she said when she had collected her wits again, "if I could ask…." She stopped, not sure if she should continue. "If it wouldn't be too much of an imposition…."

"Is there something this one can do for you, Noriko-dono?" Kenshin cut in. Why, all of the sudden, was Noriko—the first person to befriend him in this family—now so afraid to talk to him, he wondered?

Noriko finally collected herself and said in a rush, "Himura-sama, I think Husband's wound has reopened. He didn't want me to bother you about it, but I'm worried…."

Kenshin stood and said, "Of course, Noriko-dono, sessha will take a look at it. And really…"—here he gave as genuine a smile as he could—"sessha is just a rurouni, nothing more!"

He bent to pick up his tray, but Noriko took it for him, a "Sorry" on her lips and a look of relief on her face. Then, with one hand holding Nomi and the other holding the tray, she led him to a stand of trees on the other side of the wagon, where Ennosuke was sitting with his father and brothers. The men were obviously having a rather serious conversation, but when they saw Noriko and Kenshin walk up, they stopped. Kenshin had the feeling they had been discussing him.

"Husband," Noriko said tentatively as she looked around the group of men, "I know you didn't want me to, but I asked Himura-sama to look at your leg…."

"You shouldn't have bothered him…," Ennosuke started to say, but Kenshin stopped him. On Ennosuke's hakama, he could see a patch of blood.

"May this one?" Kenshin asked deferentially as he went to touch it.

Ennosuke nodded, then pulled his hakama up to reveal the bandage. Sure enough, the bandage was bloodied and slightly moist.

"I know Satoshi-sensei told me not to exert myself," Ennosuke said apologetically, "but I had a bit of trouble holding back the horse when those three bandits started attacking. They were right in front of the horse, and he got pretty skittish."

Kenshin carefully undid the bandage and looked at the wound. None of them had seen it since it had been stitched and cleaned up; it looked raw and ugly. Noriko blanched and stepped back unsteadily at the sight; Ryosuke turned green. Kenshin said, "Don't worry, it's only the cut in the skin that's opened, not the artery. Ennosuke-san's in no danger. Sessha will just go get the bag…."

Daisuke, however, stopped him and said, "Noriko-chan, why don't you ask Baiko-san to bring the medical supplies. Himura-san, you stay here and rest, why don't you."

Kenshin watched with a sinking feeling as Noriko walked off. He was already on edge from all the bowing and scraping everyone seemed to be doing to him, and now he got the distinct impression that Daisuke was going to try to pump him for information about himself. He turned on the vacant smile.

"The authorities are sending a doctor and a wagon to pick up those bandits we left behind," Daisuke told him. "Then they're sending a runner to the army barracks at Miyazaki to take charge of them. They seemed surprised that a bunch of actors could take on a whole gang of criminals. I told them it was really thanks to our two security guards."

"We couldn't have done it without your help," Kenshin said sincerely. Turning to Orinosuke, he added, "Your sons were a great help as well."

Orinosuke snorted contemptuously, then looked off in another direction, refusing to meet Kenshin's gaze.

"Well, I got the impression that you, at least, probably didn't need our help at all," Daisuke said enthusiastically. "I only saw the tail end of your fight, but that was pretty impressive work you did back there—a perfect marriage of acrobatics and kenjutsu, if you ask me. We were just saying, before you joined us just now, that it would be interesting to add some of your technique to our own kata—it would make for a great show-stopper, don't you think? May I ask the name of your style?"

Kenshin tensed imperceptibly. "My style?" he repeated with as innocent a look as he could muster. Already, he knew, there were some people who knew exactly what the name was of the style that had been used by the Hitokiri Battousai. How much could he tell now without giving himself away? "It's an ancient style that no one's ever really heard of—from Sengoku times."

"Sengoku, eh?" Daisuke fingered his chin. "That could be a good selling point…."

"Swordsmen stopped using Sengoku styles over two hundred years ago," Orinosuke remarked pointedly, "so stop lying to us, and just tell us the truth."

Kenshin could feel Orinosuke's eyes boring into his. There was no way to avoid it; he could only hope that the name would mean nothing to them.

"Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu," Kenshin finally answered.

It was Ennosuke, not Orinosuke, whose eyes widened at the name. "Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu?" he said. "I think I've heard that name before." He turned to Ryosuke and said, "Isn't that the name Hasuike-san mentioned as being the style of one of the great patriots? But I can't remember who he said it was—just that without him, the Meiji era never would have come."

"Aa, I think you're right," Ryosuke replied. "And didn't he said Okubo-sama was trying to find this man? Can't remember why…." He turned to Kenshin and said, "Maybe it was someone from your dojo. Was your dojo prominent during the Bakumatsu?"

Kenshin was really on edge now—Okubo Toshimichi was looking for him? Why? He had heard rumors that the government was tracking down and killing people who knew too much about how it came to power, but Katsura had assured him before he left…. Years of practice had made it easy for him to keep his emotions from showing on his face, and so not even Orinosuke, whose eyes had never left him, could tell that a panic was beginning to rise in Kenshin's gut. All anyone saw was the vacant smile on his face as he said, "Oro?"

Ryosuke did a double-take, then laughed. "Your dojo, man—your dojo! You were only a kid then, so maybe you don't know, but were any of your master's students famous during the Bakumatsu?"

Orinosuke's ki was reaching a dangerous level. He clearly did not buy Kenshin's act.

"There wasn't actually a dojo where sessha lived—he must have been from somewhere else," Kenshin finally answered lamely.

Orinosuke's eyes flashed fire, and he looked about to say something, but Noriko returned with Baiko before he could. Much to Kenshin's relief, that ended the conversation. He quickly took the bag of medical supplies from Baiko, then proceeded to clean Ennosuke's wound and replace the bandage. Ryosuke quickly got up before he could turn green again. "Isn't it time to get moving?" he said as he back away.

"Pathetic," Orinosuke muttered, this time directing his comment towards his brother, not Kenshin. Then he, too, left to finish preparing the wagon for travel. Ennosuke and Daisuke followed as soon as Kenshin tied off the new bandage. Kenshin's vacant smile disappeared as soon as they left, and his mouth took on a grim set as he, too, walked back to the wagon.

"What's the matter?" Baiko asked quietly as he headed towards his usual post at the rear of the wagon. "It looks to me like they're buying your act."

"Sessha must leave after tomorrow's performance," Kenshin answered.

"Not that again," Baiko started to say with a laugh, but the look in Kenshin's eye cut him off.

"It's not a joking matter," Kenshin said. "Sessha had to tell them the name of my sword style; Ennosuke-san and Ryosuke-san recognized the name, though they can't remember why."

"But the old man's told Orinosuke he can break away from the family and leave for Kyoto. Doesn't that take the heat off of you?"

Kenshin shook his head. "It's no good, Baiko. He won't give up, and the others now are getting too close to the truth." He sighed. "The funny thing is, this one actually sort of enjoyed performing yesterday. It was sort of nice to hear people laugh for once, you know?"

He stowed his bag, then took up his former post at the right side of the wagon. Noriko and Nomi joined him, just as they had that first day he traveled with them, and soon they were on the road again. Everything was the same, yet everything was different. That hard-won feeling of easy familiarity was gone, replaced with an almost imperceptible new layer of formality. He smiled, he joked with little Nomi, but Noriko was no longer her previously easy-going self. She seemed uncertain now how to relate to him, whether to treat him as a friend or as a superior.

Then Bunjiro came to join him. This was a surprise, for Orinosuke had forbidden his children from having any contact with Kenshin. It was only due to Mayako's intervention that Kenshin had even spoken to them earlier in the day. So, as the boy reached his side, Kenshin asked, "Does your father know you're walking with me?"

"Grandfather told me I could come back here," Bunjiro said.

Even Bunjiro, Kenshin noted sadly, was different now. Just that morning, he had been a gung-ho thirteen-year-old. Now he was quiet and almost withdrawn.

"Something is troubling you," Kenshin said gently.

Bunjiro looked at him in surprise. "You can tell?"

Kenshin smiled. "It's a skill sessha learned long ago."

Bunjiro sighed. "It's what happened back there," he said. "What you did."

"Oh," Kenshin replied, his heart sinking. Yet more fallout from the morning's fight.

"I saw what they looked like, those men you fought," he said. "It was pretty horrible, wasn't it."

"Aa," Kenshin said, "that it was."

"They aren't going to die, are they?"

"Sessha hopes not—no."

Bunjiro was quiet again. Then he said, "What I saw back there—that's why you told me not to become a soldier, isn't it."

"Aa."

Bunjiro sighed, then said, "Thanks, Kenshin-san," and he slowly walked back to rejoin his family.

Japanese Terms:

Engawa: porch  
-sama: the honorific for "lord."  
Shimazu-sama: Lord Shimazu, formerly the daimyo (feudal lord) of Satsuma, now the governor under the new government.  
Kata: prescribed moves for a martial art.  
Yakuzas: mafia-like gangs.  
Bakumatsu: the civil war.  
Gunshou: military commander. Bunjiro is playing soldier now.  
Bokken: wooden practice sword.  
Shuriken: star-shaped weapon favored by ninjas, often tipped with poison.  
Kempo: martial arts using the hands rather than swords.  
Anata: Beloved.  
Toba Fushimi: the final battle of the Bakamatsu.  
Bakufu: the military government of the shogunate.  
Wakazashi: short sword worn by samurai (along with the katana).  
Sengoku: the period of continuous warfare in the 1500s that preceded the Tokugawa Shogunate.  
Okubo Toshimichi: one of the leading Satsuma Ishin Shishi leaders and now one of the highest-ranking members of the new government.

****

Author's Note: Well, I sure threw in a bunch of historical and manga references in this chapter, didn't I! The White Tiger Brigade incident is a true historical incident, which is commemorated (according to what I've read) by a sculpture in Aizu City. The nineteen teenagers though they saw their daimyo's castle in flames and assumed that meant he had been killed, so they followed strict tradition in such a case and helped each other commit seppuku. They were wrong about the daimyo being killed, by the way.

As for Kenshin worrying about the government hunting down those who knew too much, Okubo tells Kenshin about it during the Kyoto Arc when he explains how Shishio became so warped (hey, if someone tried to burn me alive, I'd be warped, too!). That's several years after this story takes place, but I'm assuming he would have heard rumors about it at the time it was happening.

As for foxglove as an antidote to a poison, here's where a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. The foxglove's botanical name is digitalis, which is used as a potent heart medicine. The poison on the shuriken is slowing Kenshin's heart, so he uses foxglove to get it going again [or spontaneously combust!—Co-C.]. Obviously, don't try this at home!!

So, now Kenshin's been forced to use his godlike skills in front of the others, and Ryosuke and Ennosuke recognize the name of Kenshin's sword style. How much longer can he go without someone finding out who he is? And once they make it to Miyazaki for the command performance, will Kenshin be able to remain unrecognized with all those soldiers of Shimazu-sama's personal guard hanging around? Will Baiko have to keep elbowing him in the ribs to keep up that smile? You'll just have to read the next chapter to find out!

Thanks, reviewers, for your continued support (and editorial eye—die, typos, die!). And my apologies to Misao Shiru for leaving her out of last chapter's list. So, here once again are the names of all of you who have been kind enough to send comments. I read them all and appreciate every one of them! Calger 459, Haku Baikou, Bishounen Hunter, BakaBokken, Hitokiri oro-chan, PraiseDivineMercy, Hitokiri of the Bloodless Moon, Maeve Riannon, beriath, koe 760, Shimizu Hitomi, Cattibrie393, Ayumi Ikari, Lucrecia Le Vrai, Audi Daudi, Miranda Crystal-Bearer, Wistful-Eyes, ESP, Arcueid, Corran Nackatori, Marissa Willems, Hitokiri-san.,Toilet Marauder, TawnyBaka, AmunRa, MisaoShiru, November Dusk, zig-zag, Cetsunai, and dark sapphire.

****

Co-Conspirator's Note: Honestly—feeding our main character dangerous drugs! Conspirator, what am I going to do with you? Sigh…. Finally, the impending bandit vs. kabuki troupe battle we've all been waiting for, not to mention more of Ikuko's motherly fussing and even a bowing contest! [Co-C. insists I tell you that the inspiration for this comes from a friend's story about his Japanese-American wife who gets into bowing contests with her Japanese mother whenever they get together—C.]

Not too sure about the whole foxglove-as-an-antidote thing. Although it seems logical at first, if you think about it, it would probably just make things worse or have some really ridiculous after-effects. That and I'm not sure if it actually grows in Japan [details, details—C.] [Well, excuse me, history buff, a-full-page-of-Japanese-terms-and-historical-explanations person!—Co-C.] And it was a little tricky trying to figure out the reactions the kabuki troupe would have after seeing Kenshin in action, but we finally decided that a somewhat wary reaction would work better than outright fear or total acceptance. But, then again, that's what comments and constructive criticisms are for! [and what took this chapter so long!—C.]

Next chapter: stuff happens, we just don't know what yet. We do know, however, that we are nearing the end. Will they reach Miyazaki, or are there more bandits on the road? Will Kenshin's true identity be recognized? Will he be forced to endure the entreaties of more heartsick suitors? Will Baiko finally get the hug and teddy bear he needed at the beginning of this chapter? We just don't know—we'll just have to wait and see!!


	8. chapter 8

Kenshin has already been recognized once as the Hitokiri Battousai, by one of the bandits. Can he keep that from happening again in Miyazaki?

Can I keep from acknowledging that I don't own the copyrights? They belong to Watsuki Nobuhiro, Sony, Jump, Viz, etc. etc. etc. etc. They are exceptionally generous in allowing us to borrow the RK universe for our own creative ventures (rather than send legions of lawyers after us, which is happening to some fan websites of certain American television shows!).

At the suggestion of a reviewer, I'm listing a who's who of _everyone_ in the Daisuke family:

Daisuke: also called Father, Father-in-Law. Ikuko: Daisuke's wife.  
Orinosuke: also called First Son, First Brother. Mayako: Orinosuke's wife.  
Ryosuke: also called Second Son, Second Brother. Mei: Ryosuke's wife.  
Ennosuke: also called Youngest Son, Youngest Brother. Noriko: Ennosuke's wife.

Bunjiro, Byako: Orinosuke's sons.  
Saburo, Oda: Ryosuke's sons.  
Nomi: Ennosuke's daughter.

An Unexpected Lesson

By

Conspirator

Chapter 8

Miyazaki.

Never before had a group of travelers been so happy to see a sign bearing that name! After the cheerlessness of the first part of the morning and the terrifying encounter with bandits before lunch, Daisuke and his family were more than ready to reach this city.

Not that the rest of the trip had been difficult—far from it. About twenty minutes after they had resumed their trek after lunch, Noriko had started singing a silly little children's song to entertain Nomi, and soon everyone, including Baiko, was singing along. Kenshin, at first, just listened, for the song was bringing back the strangest memory. In his mind's eye, he could see himself helping his mother in a field, and she was singing this very song to him while they pulled radishes together. He vaguely remembered that she was wearing a light brown kimono with a pretty green obi, though he couldn't quite remember her face…. Now he started singing along, too, a strange ache arising deep within him that he couldn't quite name. Then the song was over and Mei chimed in with another one, as did Mayako and Ikuko, and before they knew it, they reached a crossroad teeming with travelers. Kenshin forcibly pushed his memories out of his mind as he scanned the crowds. If there were this many people traveling, he decided, the bandits must not have gotten this far north.

With so many people on the road now, the smaller children were put up onto rear of the wagon so they wouldn't get lost in the crowd, and they sat there swinging their legs and waving to passersby. Vendors became more numerous as they got closer to the city, and the journey now almost seemed like one giant social gathering. Everyone seemed to love it—except Kenshin. As travelers passed by his side of the wagon, he could feel their eyes glancing surreptitiously at him—it was the red hair, he knew. He was just thankful that his left cheek—his scarred cheek—was facing inward toward the wagon, not outward toward the road. There was a reason he tried to stick to back roads, after all.

Finally, they had come to that sign welcoming them to Miyazaki, and Daisuke motioned for the small caravan to stop outside the shop of a prosperous-looking book seller. He walked back to Baiko, handed him a scroll, and sent him in. Kenshin watched as the shopkeeper started pointing this way and that, apparently giving directions, and then as Baiko handed the man the scroll. As the shopkeeper unrolled it and read it, his eyes grew wide, and he began a flurry of bows towards the wagon, which Daisuke returned with a carefully rehearsed patrician aloofness. The shop's customers now gathered around the shopkeeper as he pasted the poster onto his doorway, and a collective "Oooh!" went up. Some of them immediately started moving towards the wagon, and Kenshin instictively found his hand hovering over the hilt of his sakabatou as they did, but Daisuke pushed his hand away, saying, "Not to worry, Himura-san—they're just our fans."

Fans? Kenshin looked over at the poster to see what it said:

"Kabuki Performance!  
The Famous Daisuke Family of Kagoshima.  
Tomorrow, Miyazaki Grand Jingu Shrine.  
Thursday and Friday, Soudai Theater."

Below were illustrations of Daisuke, Orinosuke, Ryosuke, and Ennosuke.

Daisuke now handed a stack of illustrated cards to Bunjiro and Byako and sent the boys off to hand them out to the crowd. The women, in particular, seemed to treat the cards as if they were almost holy relics. Curious, Kenshin tapped Byako on the shoulder as he passed by and asked almost shyly, "May sessha have one, too?"

Byako chuckled, fanned through his stack, and pulled one out. It was a portrait of Orinosuke. "That's my dad," he said proudly.

Baiko came back to stand with Kenshin while the boys did their job and said, "Didn't know they were this famous."

The two watched in amazement as the crowd literally grabbed for the cards. Then Kenshin said, "Did you happen to read that poster?"

"No. Why?"

"It's not just tomorrow they're performing—it's the two days after that as well," Kenshin replied in a worried voice.

Baiko turned to read the poster now. "Hmpf," he muttered, "they never said anything about that to me, but what do I know? I'm just the hired help."

"You don't understand," Kenshin said in an urgent voice. "Sessha needs to leave _tomorrow_—this one can't risk staying any longer than that!" He glanced around at the crowds again and added, "Sessha's not even sure he can risk staying here tonight!"

Baiko put his arm around Kenshin's shoulder and pushed him to the rear of the wagon. "Himura, you gave your solemn word you'd help them out for this command performance, or whatever they call it, tomorrow. You have to do it, and that's that, but after that I'd say all bets are off." He patted Kenshin on the back reassuringly. "You'll be fine, you'll see." Then he pushed Kenshin back towards his own post.

As it turned out, their inn was on the far northeast side of the city, not far from the shrine, which meant the caravan had to travel through the city from one end to the other. Daisuke had the wagon stop every few blocks so that Baiko could hand out posters at various shops along the way, and every time they stopped, Kenshin became more and more uncomfortable. It wasn't just the stares—that was bad enough—but the fact that there seemed to be more than several soldiers wandering around the streets wearing the crest of the Satsuma army. The youngest ones he wasn't worried about, for most likely they had fought only in the recent Boshin War. The older ones, however, in all likelihood had fought in the Bakumatsu itself, and if they had fought in the final battles, especially at Toba Fushimi…..

He stopped himself. There had been thousands and thousands of Satsuma and Chousu soldiers on the battlefield that day, but only a relative handful had actually fought with him, and those were mostly Chousu men. The chances were slim, he told himself, that any of these soldiers had actually seen him.

Still, he felt a great sense of relief when they finally reached their destination, an imposing-looking inn near the northeast edge of town. He watched as the innkeeper came out and paid grand obeisances to Daisuke, who responded with all the aloofness of a grand aristocrat. There was no question that Daisuke had a commanding presence, but Kenshin had always found him to be a friendly man who didn't seem to care much for grand formalities. Since arriving in Miyazaki, however, Daisuke had suddenly taken on the persona of a rather intimidating lord. Curious about the change, Kenshin cast out his senses to see if there was a corresponding difference in Daisuke's ki. Strangely, he got the sense that it was all a ruse and that Daisuke was enjoying himself immensely. Sure enough, when the innkeeper started backing up and bowing in order to reenter the inn, Kenshin caught just a hint of a twinkle in Daisuke's eye. Well, the man _was_ a consummate actor, after all. Should he have been surprised that this was all an act?

"Baiko-san, Himura-san," Daisuke called out now. The two came forward, and Daisuke clapped his hands on their shoulders. "I've got some bad news. You'll be staying at this inn with us, so you won't have to sleep in a warehouse like you did last night, but the innkeeper insists that all he has available for you is a small servant's room. Frankly, I think he's lying. Then he said because you'll be in a servant's room, you can only use the guest bathhouse after everyone else has finished, and you'll have to take your meals with the servants. The nerve, considering what I'm paying him for our own rooms! After what you two did earlier today fighting those bandits, you certainly deserve better than this, but there's nothing I could do to change his mind. I'm very sorry…."

Baiko let out a huge sigh of relief. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to say we'd have to dress up for dinner or something! This place is way too grand for me—servants' quarters would suit me just fine. How 'bout you, Himura?"

"What?" Kenshin had been focusing on the mix of strong ki's that seemed to be coming and going from this inn. "Oh, yes—that's fine," he stammered. He quickly put on the vacant smile he had been using all afternoon. "Sessha is only a rurouni, after all."

"Good, then that's settled," Daisuke said with relief. "So let's get the costume trunk and our personal luggage off the wagon, then you take the wagon and horse around to the stable. After that, you're free until tomorrow morning." Then, turning to Kenshin, he added, "Are you all recovered from your wound now?"

"Aa," Kenshin replied, "just a bit tired still, but that'll be gone by morning."

"Thank goodness," he replied. "You know, I'm convinced it was karma that brought you to us back on that mountain. For you to show up just when we needed you, to have you save my son's life that day, then to have the aid of your sword during our terrible encounter today—yes, it was karma, for sure. We are forever in your debt, Himura-san."

Daisuke now bowed deeply to Kenshin before walking into the inn. Kenshin bowed back, speechless. Once again, this family had confounded his expectations. He stood and stared as Daisuke followed his family into the inn until finally Baiko said, "Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to help me unload this stuff?"

Now Kenshin gave a genuine smile, and the two quickly got to work. Within half an hour, they had unloaded everything and brought the boxes to the appropriate rooms as well as parked the wagon in the stable and unhitched the horse. Then they found their room and sank to the floor for a well-deserved rest.

It was well after dark when a servant came to call them for dinner. Baiko was hungry, and he hopped up quickly and started for the door. Kenshin, however, didn't budge.

"Hey, aren't you hungry?" Baiko asked.

Kenshin shook his head.

"But you gotta eat," Baiko protested.

Kenshin looked to make sure the servant was nowhere in sight, then said softly, "Baiko, it's not a good idea for this one to eat with so many people around."

"What are you talking about? A servant isn't going to know who you are!"

Kenshin sighed. "Already as we were walking through town, people were staring at me. It's the red hair, you know, but at least they couldn't see the scar." His hand moved unconsciously to touch the "X" on his cheek. "Once they see the scar, though…."

Baiko was already halfway through the door, but now he turned back in and grabbed Kenshin's bag. "You mean to tell me that in this bag of yours, you don't have some kind of bandage or something you can put over that scar?"

"Well, actually… yes, sessha supposes there is something this one could use," he answered slowly, "but wouldn't that raise some suspicions with Daisuke-san's family?"

"Are _they_ eating with the servants?" Baiko asked. "Of course not! So how would they know!"

A small smile crept over Kenshin's face. "Maybe you're right," he said.

He dug into his bag and came up with a small bandage, which he carefully affixed it to his scarred cheek.

"You think this will do?" Kenshin asked.

Baiko laughed. "Hell, yes! Come on, let's go eat!"

The two of them headed down to the kitchen to find it crowded with not only the inn's own eight servants, but ten servants of guests as well. They were lucky to find a place to squeeze in at the far end of the long table. As Kenshin expected, there were stares but once the novelty wore off, no one bothered them, and the meal proceeded without incident. As some of the others finished, though, one of them said, "Anyone up for a little dice and gambling tonight?"

That brought the group to life, and Baiko was no exception. He turned to Kenshin and said, "Hey, what about it? You play dice?"

Kenshin chuckled. "Aa, sessha has played dice, but it's been a long time. Anyway, this one is rather tired."

"Oh, come on—let's have some fun," Baiko goaded him. "You can use the money, can't you? Or are you the kind who couldn't win even if the dice were loaded?"

That did it. Kenshin's smile grew larger. "Sessha could use some money for a warm haori, that he could. Aa, sessha will join you, but this one will not play against you—only against the others. Agreed?"

Baiko looked at him quizzically but said, "Agreed."

So, the two followed the others to the large shared servants' quarters, where the other men were already clearing a space for the game. They looked at the newcomers and chuckled.

"Hey, soldier!" one of them said to Baiko. "Who's the kid? His mommy know he's out gambling?"

The other men laughed as Baiko looked around.

"What kid?" he asked confusedly. Then he looked at Kenshin. Kenshin had put on his vacant smile, and with the bandage on his cheek, Baiko realized he looked not a day over sixteen. "Oh, him! Yeah, well, he's got more experience than you think." He leaned over and whispered in Kenshin's ear, "You _do_ know how to gamble, right?"

Kenshin just smiled.

The game started, with the dice going around the circle of men. They were sure they would make a killing, what with an apparently clueless kid as part of the crowd. At first Kenshin just watched, confirming their hunch, but after several rounds, he finally pulled a coin from his small purse. He took the dice, rolled, called out his bet, and won. Luck of the novice, the men thought. Then Kenshin rolled the dice again; again he won. A third, fourth, and fifth time the he rolled the dice, winning every time. He was beginning to amass a good-sized pile of coins now, and the other men were beginning to get upset.

"Hey, Himura, what's going on?" Baiko whispered as he felt the atmosphere chill in the room. "You got those dice rigged or something?"

Kenshin put on as innocent a look as he could and said aloud, "It's just luck, that it is," and he handed the dice over to Baiko.

Now Baiko tried his hand. No luck. On the next roll, Kenshin leaned over and whispered, "Six and two." Baiko quickly yelled out, "Six and two," and won. On Baiko's next turn, Kenshin again whispered in his ear, and again Baiko won. The other men were now starting to grumble audibly.

"Baiko," Kenshin whispered, a smile still plastered on his face, "this one thinks it's time we left—before there's a fight."

He calmly started to drop his winnings into his purse. Baiko looked around at the stormy faces of their companions and decided to do likewise.

"Well, gents, it's been a pleasure," Baiko said. Then he and Kenshin quickly got up to leave.

"Yeah? And don't come back!" one of the men yelled after them.

When they got back to their room, Baiko said, "Himura, how the hell did you do that?"

"Do what?" Kenshin asked innocently.

"You know what I mean—call every roll of the dice right every time. I've never seen anything like it!"

"Ah," Kenshin laughed, "just a little something my shishou taught me. It has to do with watching the trajectory and spin of the dice…." He stopped, remembering how he had once tried to teach a friend to read the movement of the dice, without much success. "It takes a long time to learn. Just be glad sessha promised not to play against _you_!"

He stashed his winnings in his travel bag. Then he motioned towards the bathhouse, which was just steps from their room. "You think we can use it now?" he asked. He hadn't had a proper bath in he didn't know how long, and the thought of soaking in a warm tub, instead of a cold stream, seemed like an almost unbelievable luxury.

Baiko looked out the window and said, "Hey, after the day we've had, we deserve it."

Within minutes, the two were washed and settling into the warm tub, with Kenshin carefully keeping his wounded shoulder above the water. He closed his eyes as he sat there, and soon all the tension and worries of the day seemed to melt away. He was so relaxed, in fact, that he almost found himself dozing off. He caught himself just in time, though, and reluctantly pulled himself out of the tub to towel off. Baiko followed suit. Then they headed back to their room for a good night's sleep.

Kenshin awoke with the sun as usual. It gave him a bit of a start at first when he looked around and found himself in an inn, but then he remembered—he was in Miyazaki, not Kyoto, and the man snoring away at the other end of the room was Baiko, not another Ishin Shishi. He sat up slowly and stretched, his breath hitching slightly as he felt a small stab of pain from his shoulder, but all in all, he was relieved to find there were no other ill effects from the previous day's battle. He looked out the window—it looked like it would be a glorious day, and he was glad to find that Miyazaki was considerably warmer than the mountains they had just traveled through. He proceeded to get washed and dressed, then sat and stared out the window while Baiko awoke and did the same.

He had always had a fascination with people-watching. Growing up in the mountains with hermit like Hiko, he had had little opportunity to interact with others, so when he first moved to Kyoto, just watching the throngs of city dwellers passing by seemed like the greatest entertainment to him. Of course, as he became more and more consumed by his job as a hitokiri, people-watching took on a more sinister quality, but still he never quite lost his fascination with it. Were the women going shopping or were they going to meet a lover? Were the children happy or did their parents beat them? Were the men just going to work or were they… no, he would not go down that path today.

The window of their little room in the servants' quarters looked out on the bathhouse and well, and so as he looked out, he could see the kitchen servants starting their daily chores. Then some of the guests' servants started appearing, eyes bleary from just awakening. He chuckled quietly as he heard them grumble about having to bring in buckets of water for their masters. That wasn't such a bad job, he thought, when you considered the alternatives. Then a familiar form appeared—a regal-looking white-haired man. It was Daisuke, and he was headed for the bathhouse. The sun was just up above the horizon now—quite early for Daisuke to be up and about. He nudged Baiko and pointed.

"Hmpf," Baiko muttered blearily. "Unusual." He shrugged, then proceeded to shave.

Soon a knock came and the announcement that breakfast for the servants was being served. Kenshin hesitated only a second before deciding to place that bandage back on his cheek. Baiko was right—the Daisuke family would never know, and he'd feel less conspicuous with it on. And so the two made their way to the kitchen to join the other servants for breakfast.This time as they walked in, they were not ignored.

"It's the kid what took all my money," one of the servants muttered to his companion grumpily when he saw Kenshin.

"Yeah, and that other guy's in cahoots with him," said another. Then, to Baiko and Kenshin, he said, "And you're not welcome in our quarters anymore!"

Kenshin stifled a laugh and gave as clueless a look as he could muster. "Oro?" he said innocently. The servants just stared, not sure whether to laugh or groan.

Baiko grabbed his elbow and steered him to a table. "You're getting pretty good with that act," he whispered, "but if you don't watch it, you'll have an open rebellion in here. You won a hell of a lot of money from them, you know."

Kenshin patted his bulging purse, which he had tucked into his sleeve for safekeeping. "Sessha knows, sessha knows," he said with satisfaction.

The meal was simple—just a fish soup made with leftovers and fruit—but filling enough. They were just finishing when there was a knock at the kitchen doorway. It was Bunjiro. Kenshin panicked as he remembered the bandage on his cheek, and as Baiko got up to meet him, Kenshin quickly turned his head so Bunjiro wouldn't see it.

"Baiko-san," Bunjiro said, somewhat embarrassed by the bold stares coming from the servants, "Grandfather wants you and Kenshin-san to bring the wagon around as soon as you've finished breakfast. Then he's got some other things for you to do."

"Sure thing," Baiko responded. He turned to go back to the table, but Bunjiro pulled on his sleeve.

"Baiko-san," he said worriedly, "you don't think we're in trouble with Shimazu-sama, do you? I mean, we were supposed to be here by yesterday to set up and everything. I asked Father, but he just got angry with me, and I'm afraid to ask Grandfather…."

Baiko tousled Bunjiro's hair. "Nah, you won't be in any trouble. Once they hear about your uncle breaking his leg and our run-in with the bandits, they'll understand. Don't you worry."

"Thanks," Bunjiro said, and he ran off down the hall. Kenshin gave an inward sigh of relief—he was sure his bandage had gone unnoticed.

"Hey," one of the servants said as Baiko sat back down, "that's one of the actor's brats, isn't it?"

"Yeah, so?" Baiko said warily.

"You work for them?" the servant asked.

"What of it?" he answered.

"Well, we live in Kagoshima, and my master and his wife go to that family's kabuki theater all the time!" the servant said enthusiastically. "When they saw those very actors right here—right at this very inn!—well, the mistress just couldn't stop talking about it! Especially about that onnagata of theirs—what's his name? Enno-something?"

"Ennosuke-san?" Baiko said. "Yeah, he's the onnagata, but he's got a broken leg, so Himura here's gonna…."

Suddenly, Baiko found his mostly empty bowl of soup in his lap. He leaped to his feet in surprise.

"Hey! What the…!"

Kenshin looked as astonished as everyone else at what happened, but he was not astonished that no one had seen his hand whip out at godlike speed to knock the bowl over. The servants started laughing as Baiko looked down at the embarrassing wet spot that now graced the front of his hakama. He started cursing under his breath. Then, hauling Kenshin up by his arm, he said, "Come on, Himura, let's get out of here. We've got work to do!"

He stormed off down the hall to their room and fished out another hakama, still muttering imprecations as he did so.

"Sessha hated to do it," Kenshin said through his laughter. "Gomen nasai."

Baiko turned around as the import of what Kenshin said slowly sank in.

"You?" Baiko asked incredulously. "_You_ did this?!" He looked ready to kill.

Kenshin swallowed his laughter. "It's like you said when sessha first agreed to fill in for Ennosuke-san—no one would recognize me dressed up like a woman—but they might if you tell them this one is the onnagata. Spilling your soup was the only way sessha could think of to stop you from giving away the secret. Can you forgive me? This one will even wash your hakama for you to make up for it."

Baiko angrily threw his dirty hakama across the room and pulled on his clean one.

"You know what your problem is, Himura? You're paranoid! That's what it is—you're paranoid! You think everyone in the world is out to get you. Well, maybe they're not, and maybe you didn't have to dump that soup in my lap!"

Kenshin's face went rigid, and his eyes became unreadable.

"Of course," Kenshin said in a suddenly flat monotone. "You're right. Sessha should not have done that—it was inexcusable. But there is something this one did not tell you yesterday—one of the bandits recognized me. Sessha thought perhaps my description hadn't made it this far south, but it has. You understand now why sessha must leave as soon as possible."

The anger drained from Baiko's face at Kenshin's words.

"Himura," he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I was just angry about having to change. And it _was_ pretty funny, I have to admit…."

He saw the corner of Kenshin's mouth turn up slightly.

"And it did get those bloodsuckers in there to forget how we cleaned them out last night…."

Now the other side of Kenshin's mouth turned up.

"Come on," Baiko said as he pushed Kenshin towards the door. "The horse and wagon await us—not to mention your swooning public."

Kenshin would have said something to that, but he was just relieved that Baiko had forgiven him. He quickly peeled the bandage off his cheek and threw it aside, then hurried out the door with his friend.

Within twenty minutes, they had the wagon pulled up in front of the inn. Daisuke was waiting for them, dressed in his finest kimono and holding a stack of posters in his hand.

"Ah, good—nice and early!" he said as Baiko and Kenshin jumped down from the wagon bench. He handed the posters to Baiko. "Here. You and Himura-san, take these and put them up around town, but save a stack to give to the Soudai Theater. We're a day late in getting them up, so you'd better get moving right away. And Himura-san, we need you back by mid-morning for a quick rehearsal. We'll be at the old Noh theater on the shrine grounds. You'll find the directions with the posters."

Walking through town to put up posters? This was about the last thing Kenshin wanted to do right now. It was one thing to go out in public in stage makeup and a woman's costume, totally another to walk through a fairly large city crawling with soldiers who might recognize him. Not only that, he had already taken off the bandage covering his X scar, and he had no others with him—they were all in his travel bag. He had to find some way to get out of this!

"Sessha needs to check Ennosuke-san's leg," he said quickly. "Perhaps Baiko-san should go on without me. Everything this one needs is back in our room…."

"No need to worry about that," Daisuke broke in. "The innkeeper's already arranged for a local doctor to come by and look at him—should be here any minute, as a matter of fact. No, you just go on with Baiko-san. It'll get done twice as fast with the two of you. Well, off you go!"

He stood and watched as Kenshin and Baiko set off, then turned and climbed into a waiting palanquin. He was off to the governor's mansion to pick a dozen men from the governor's ceremonial guard to use as extras in the afternoon's play.

As soon as the inn was out of sight, Kenshin stopped. "Baiko, sessha must go back. There is too great a chance that sessha will be recognized."

Baiko stood and looked him over. True, Kenshin said one of the bandits had recognized him yesterday, but did that mean that someone in Miyazaki would recognize him, too? He couldn't decide whether to be concerned or not, but Kenshin clearly was. "You're really worried, aren't you."

"Aa," Kenshin said, nodding his head. "Sessha has tried to avoid cities, and when that wasn't possible, at least to wear a bandage on my cheek, but sessha took the bandage off before we went for the wagon."

"Well, we can't go back now," Baiko said. "It'd look too suspicioius." He looked around. It was still early in the morning, and the streets were still fairly empty. "Listen, people are still eating breakfast—it'll be awhile before the streets get really crowded. Maybe we're both worrying for nothing. If we hurry, we'll be done and out of here before the crowds hit."

Kenshin wasn't convinced, but he had no choice. They started walking, and as they did, he found himself going on high alert, senses stretched out in every direction to detect hostile ki. He insisted on walking on the inner side of the walkways, between the buildings and Baiko, so that he would be less conspicuous to passersby on the street. It almost felt as if he were back in Kyoto during the Bakumatsu. Even Baiko noticed the difference, for when he happened to look sideways at his companion, he saw not the calm eyes and countenance of the rurouni, but the narrowed eyes and intense concentration of a warrior—of the Hitokiri Battousai, he realized with a shudder.

At every inn and market square they passed, they stopped to post a flyer. Or at least Baiko posted the flyers; Kenshin seemed to melt unnoticed into doorways or alleys. In fact, Kenshin managed to be so inconspicuous that the first time he did so, Baiko thought he had disappeared completely. And so an hour passed without incident. They finally reached the Soudai Theater shortly before mid-morning and turned over the rest of the flyers.

They were just turning the corner to go back towards the shrine when a group of three soldiers passed by them. The soldiers were talking and laughing, not paying much attention to people on the street, but a glimpse of red made one of them stop and turn. What he saw was not just a red-haired man, but a red-haired man with an X-shaped scar on his cheek. He stopped and pulled his comrades to a stop as well. Kenshin felt the surge of ki and quickly faded into the nearest doorway, leaving Baiko standing alone on the sidewalk.

"Did you see that?" the soldier said. He turned back towards where he had seen the red hair, but now he saw nothing except a very perplexed-looking swordsman with dark hair.

"What," the second soldier asked. "I don't see anything."

"Red hair," the first soldier said slowly, as if not quite believing it himself. "I could've sworn I saw red hair—and an X-shaped scar! I'm sure of it…."

"You got a hangover or something?" the third soldier said. "Or maybe you had too good a time with your girl last night!" He laughed boisterously.

"Hey—I'm serious! I really saw it!" the first soldier retorted. "In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was the Hitokiri Battousai, but…."

While the three soldiers were conversing, Kenshin had quietly managed to jump up onto the roof. He could hear every word, and now his blood ran cold.

"Hitokiri Battousai? You've got to be kidding," said the third soldier. "He disappeared years ago!"

"No! I heard he's been roaming the countryside, sent by the gods to slaughter the wicked," said the first soldier in an almost conspiratorial whisper. They had started walking again, but the soldier turned once more to look back. Still only that befuddled swordsman standing and looking around as if he had lost his pet dog. But that befuddled swordsman, too, had heard every word, and he was kicking himself for not letting Kenshin stay behind at the inn.

"Well," said the second soldier, "if the Hitokiri Battousai really is here, then we'd better tell Ozawa-san. His brother was killed by the Hitokiri Battousai, you know. It was at the beginning of the Bakumatsu, when those idiots from Chousu tried to kidnap the emperor. His brother was a guard at the Imperial Palace that night, and they say it was the Battousai who killed him. Ozawa-san's sworn vengeance against him ever since."

"Well, I'll be damned," said the first soldier as the group finally moved out of earshot.

Baiko had been looking for Kenshin without success ever since he faded from view, so once the soldiers were out of sight, he called out softly, "Himura? Where are you?"

"Up here," came the answer.

Baiko looked up to find Kenshin lying flat on the roof. He glanced around and saw no ladder or any other means of reaching the roof. He was mystified.

"How the hell did you get up there?" he asked. "And how did you do it without me seeing you do it?"

"Never mind that," Kenshin answered. "Sessha needs to get back before anyone else sees me. Let me follow you to the shrine from the rooftops. Just don't look up—pretend as if nothing unusual is going on."

Baiko shivered. It suddenly dawned on him just how Kenshin had come by this ability to seemingly appear and disappear without anyone noticing. The Hitokiri Battousai was legendary for his ability to move like a shadow, and Baiko was getting to witness it first-hand. Now he knew what it felt like to be followed—to be hunted—by a shadow on the rooftops, and it made his knees feel like jelly. He quickly reminded himself that it was a sakabatou Kenshin was carrying, not a katana, and thus fortified, he started off in the direction of the Miyazaki Jingu Shrine.

It only took a half-hour to get there, but it felt like the longest half-hour of Baiko's life. It wasn't that he felt he was in danger, it was just knowing that every step he took, every move he made was being watched by the eyes of a hitokiri. Well, a former hitokiri, but still! It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The shrine turned out to be set deep in the woods at the very northern end of town. He started down the path, wondering whether he should stop and wait for Kenshin to catch up.

"Sessha is right here," Kenshin said softly from behind, as if anticipating Baiko's question. Baiko jumped.

"Kami-sama!" Baiko blurted out, his heart pounding a mile a minute. "You just scared the shit out of me!"

Kenshin's mouth curled in a tiny smile. He bowed slightly by way of apology, then walked on ahead toward the shrine. Baiko quickly recovered his wits and caught up with him, but Kenshin could tell Baiko was agitated, and not just from Kenshin's sudden appearance.

"Himura," Baiko finally said, "you heard what those soldiers said back there, didn't you?"

Kenshin sighed. Here it comes, he thought. "Aa," he answered.

Baiko was fidgeting with the hilt of his katana; he was clearly on edge. "You were right—people _are_ out after you," he admitted. "I guess I shouldn't have doubted you, but…."

But the whole thing just didn't make sense to him. The point of the revolution was to bring the emperor back to power, wasn't it? So why would Kenshin kill the emperor's own palace guards? Unless those stories about the Hitokiri Battousai were true and he really _did _kill just for the fun of it….

Kenshin sighed again. There was nothing for it but to tell Baiko the truth. "You know about Kinmon no Hen?" he asked softly.

"Sure, everyone does. It was when Chousu tried to kidnap the emperor and force the shogun's hand. It was a shameful day for Satsuma because we ended up allying with those bastards from Aizu to stop them. I seem to remember hearing that Kyoto almost burned down that day."

"Not all the Chousu leaders approved of that plan," Kenshin said, his voice low and devoid of emotion. "Katsura Kogoro knew it was a mistake. He was my commander—the commander of the Chousu Ishin Shishi in Kyoto—and he wanted to stop what he knew would be a disastrous mistake. Three thousand Chousu men were about to arrive from the south, so he ordered us to storm the palace first and hold it until he could rally the troops loyal to him and block the kidnapping. They sent me ahead to kill as many palace guards as possible before our own men moved in. I took the guards by surprise—I managed to kill twenty-three before anyone noticed. It's possible this Ozawa-san's brother was among them."

Baiko stopped walking and stared at Kenshin. Twenty-three men? In cold blood? He had heard of hardened murderers who thought nothing of slaughtering people unawares, but Kenshin? And all this took place seven long years ago, which meant… No, it couldn't be—Kenshin was only twenty-two now, though he looked much younger. But if he really was only twenty-two, then when he killed all those men—when he became the feared Hitokiri Battousai—he must have been only….

"Sessha was fifteen," Kenshin said, once again anticipating Baiko's question.

"Kami-sama," Baiko muttered softly.

They walked some more in total silence. He could feel Baiko struggling to come to grips with what he had just heard.

"Baiko," Kenshin finally said, "the hitokiri no longer exists. Sessha vowed never to kill again, and this one meant it. Sessha lives now only to atone for all the lives that were taken by his blade, nothing more."

"Kami-sama," Baiko muttered once more. "Kami-sama."

They had reached the shrine by now, and Kenshin walked forward to rinse his hands at the purification fountain at its entrance. It was a very plain shrine—really just a simple cedar building.

"Not much to it, is there," Kenshin commented. He pulled a coin from his sleeve pocket and placed it in the offering box.

"I wonder why Shimazu-sama sets such a high store by it," Baiko said. "Doesn't look all that special to me."

"Well, it _is_ imperial," Kenshin remarked. "It does have the emperor's crest after all, so there must be something to it."

He clapped his hands twice, as was the custom at a Shinto shrine, then bowed deeply and prayed. Baiko followed suit. When they were done, Baiko said, "Didn't know you were the religious type."

Kenshin laughed softly. "This one isn't, but when one has so much to atone for, it doesn't hurt to get as much help as one can, you know?"

They hurried along now on the path leading to the old Noh theater. Kenshin felt his tension start to lessen as they walked through the deep woods. It was so peaceful here, almost like his home in the mountains with Hiko. The sound of the leaves as the light breeze swept by had that subtle swishing sound that always reminded him of sheets of paper rustling together. He wished he could just stop and sit under one of these majestic old trees to drink in that soothing sound, but they were running late. Maybe later, if there was time.

Baiko, on the other hand, was still on edge, and he found himself involuntarily scanning the branches for signs of bandits or other hidden dangers. Why was he so jumpy all of the sudden? He glanced sideways at Kenshin and saw that Kenshin, at least , seemed at ease. Intellectually, he knew that if Kenshin sensed no danger, then neither should he, but he couldn't shake it. What was wrong with him!

Then he realized. Back in the city it had hit him, like a fist to the stomach, that the man he now considered a friend truly was a hitokiri. Yes, he had heard all the stories before—that the Hitokiri Battousai lived for killing, that he reveled in blood, that he wasn't even human—but he hadn't thought much of it because it had nothing to do with him. So, when his old commander Matsuo had told them that the Hitokiri Battousai was not some evil demon but a good man, he believed it. And why not, after all? Matsuo had never told a lie in his life. If Matsuo said the Battousai was a good man, then it was true.

But that was all in the abstract. That was before Baiko had actually seen Kenshin in action. He had only caught the tale end of Kenshin's fight with the bandits, but what he saw had left him speechless. The speed, the deadly accuracy—there was no question the man he had taken to calling a friend was a killer. Then today, to experience first-hand the way Kenshin could seemingly disappear in broad daylight, to know he was being tracked without even a hint of Kenshin's presence—it had more than rattled his nerves. He didn't know what to make of the sakabatou or Kenshin's apparent vow never to kill again, but during the whole trek through the city to the shrine, all Baiko could think about was that at any second his life could be brought to a sudden and bloody end—by this seemingly kind and gentle man. It was almost as if Kenshin were two different people, he realized—the gentle rurouni, but also a potentially ruthless killer. He looked once again at Kenshin. There was a sort of far-off look on Kenshin's face, so different from the guarded expression he usually wore, and that's when Baiko saw it—a look of unfathomable sadness. In the blink of an eye it was gone, replaced again by that guarded expression, but it had been there.

Fifteen, Baiko thought—Kenshin was only fifteen when he was turned into a killer. Baiko felt that righteous anger well up in him yet again. Katsura Kogoro, Kenshin had said—that's who commanded him back during the Bakumatsu. Katsura Kogoro, whom everyone now revered as one of the great fathers of the new era. Great father? Bullshit! No father would ever turn a fifteen-year-old into a hitokiri! Not even the new era was worth doing that to a young boy! He swore to himself then and there that if he ever crossed paths with this Katsura Kogoro, he would kill him for what he had done to Kenshin.

Japanese Terms:

Boshin War: The war waged by shogunate supporters from 1868-1869, principally in Aizu and Hokkaido, against the new Meiji government.

Bakumatsu: the Japanese civil war.

Toba Fushimi: the final battle of the Bakumatsu, resulting in complete defeat for the shogunate government.

Haori: warm overcoat.

Shishou: master swordsman.

Ishin Shishi: the anti-shogunate rebels during the civil war.

Shimazu-sama: Lord Shimazu, formerly the daimyo of Satsuma, now the governor of the new prefecture of Satsuma.

Onnagata: in kabuki, the man who plays women's roles.

Gomen nasai: very sorry.

Noh: the highly stylized, even more ancient form of Japanese drama for the upper classes (kabuki was originally for the lower classes).

Kinmon no Hen: the storming of the Imperial Palace by Chousu forces in 1864.

Kami-sama: literally, Lord God.

Author's Note: Well, you knew it was going to happen—someone was bound to put two and two together and figure out that red hair scar on cheek = Hitokiri Battousai. You can tell that I'm fascinated with the question of how others deal with Kenshin and his past, and now it's Baiko's turn to be disturbed. Baiko may have been a bit cautious about Kenshin to begin with, but now he's seen and experienced Kenshin's formidable skills himself, and he has to admit that Kenshin is—or at least used to be—the killer everyone said he was. Baiko has a soft heart, though. Will the others feel the same if and when they find out?

The reference to Kinmon no Hen and my explanation of Kenshin's ability to predict dice come from my previous fic _Descent into Madness_ (thanks, folks, for nominating it in the RKRC Reader's Choice Awards! Anybody want to second it?). Kinmon no Hen really did happen during the summer of 1864—I just happened to give Kenshin an important role in it. If you want to read the history of this incident, check out Chapter 15 of _Descent_. As for the kabuki cards, thank you PBS for airing that special on _Secrets of Japan_ while I was writing this story! They had a section on kabuki and explained that kabuki actors were the pop stars of their day and that their fans would collect illustrated cards of their favorite actors the way we collect fan memorabilia. As for descriptions of the Miyazaki shrine, Frommer's travel site is a great source of information )!

Next chapter: It's time for the command performance, but rumors are spreading like wildfire that the Hitokiri Battousai is in Miyazaki. Now it's not just Orinosuke who's after him in the conclusion to this story.

Thanks yet again to all our wonderful reviewers: Calger 459, Haku Baikou, Bishounen Hunter, BakaBokken, Hitokiri oro-chan, PraiseDivineMercy, Hitokiri of the Bloodless Moon, Maeve Riannon, beriath, koe 760, Shimizu Hitomi, Cattibrie393, Ayumi Ikari, Lucrecia Le Vrai, Audi Daudi, Miranda Crystal-Bearer, Wistful-Eyes, ESP, Arcueid, Corran Nackatori, Marissa Willems, Hitokiri-san.,Toilet Marauder, TawnyBaka, AmunRa, MisaoShiru, November Dusk, zig-zag, Cetsunai, dark sapphire, Steffel, Baru-chan, iceblazingpheonix, wyrd, curiosicat, sasha, Ayashi1, LadyBattousai456, Neko Oni-chan, and Wistful-Eyes. And because so many of you commented favorably on Chapter 7's battle scene and aftermath, I want to thank Co-Conspirator once again for all her help in writing that portion of the story. You don't even want to know how lame it was before she came to my rescue!

Co-Conspirator's Note: You're very welcome, C. Hmm, if Baiko's after Katsura, then he might be in a bit of trouble because he'd have to fight me to the death first! (I thought Katsura was really cool.) Besides, without Katsura, there would be no angst, and then where would we be?! I really enjoyed the idea of having collectible kabuki memorabilia. When are they making a card for Kenshin, or maybe one of those little bobble-head thingies? By the way, the Miyazaki Jingu Shrine is supposed to be really famous for something, but from what I've heard, it's really boring. In case you were wondering, the Imperial crest is a chrysanthemum, which has some big symbolism that I'm not aware of. Well, I guess that's all I have to say about this chapter [must have been a boring chapter—C.], except that I like the part about Baiko looking for his lost puppy (diabolical laughter ensues).

Next chapter: Fanatical fans! Angry avengers! Ornery Orinosukes! Not to mention many other lovely alliterations! Can Kenshin survive this merciless onslaught without suffering another severe panic attack? And will there be an epilogue? [NO!—C.] Wait and see!


	9. chapter 9

Okay, everyone, you can stop lobbing explosives my way now. I know it's been more than two months since the last chapter, but life sometimes gets in the way. First there was the two-week vacation right after I posted Chapter 8, then the week it took to recover from massive jet lag, then the many days to get myself back into the mindset of this story, then the yellow jacket sting to my finger (no kidding, and boy, was it excruciating!), and that doesn't even include the week it took to figure out how to make a boring transition interesting and the two weeks it took to figure out I had somehow gotten off course! The downside to all this: the chapter is half as long as I had planned. The upside: it's not the last chapter!

Do I still need to say that I don't own the copyrights to _Rurouni Kenshin_? That I don't make a dime off this fic? Of course, neither does our hero, Watsuki Nobuhiro, but he does make a mint from the real thing (and he deserves every penny)!

Just to keep everyone straight, here's a list of who's who in the Daisuke family.

Daisuke: also called Father, Father-in-Law. Ikuko: Daisuke's wife.  
Orinosuke: also called First Son, First Brother. Mayako: Orinosuke's wife.  
Ryosuke: also called Second Son, Second Brother. Mei: Ryosuke's wife.  
Ennosuke: also called Youngest Son, Youngest Brother. Noriko: Ennosuke's wife.  
Bunjiro, Byako: Orinosuke's sons.  
Saburo, Oda: Ryosuke's sons.  
Nomi: Ennosuke's daughter.

An Unexpected Lesson

By

Conspirator

Chapter 9

It wasn't hard to find the old Noh theater. Even Baiko, who didn't have much talent for sensing ki, could have found it with his eyes closed. All they had to do was follow the rather obvious sounds of yelling, singing, and hammering coming from down one of the paths. It all sounded so normal and reassuring after the tension that had gripped them earlier in the city. Kenshin and Baiko grinned to each other in relief as they approached, then walked through the open doorway to a scene of barely controlled chaos.

To their right, the four boys were practicing a rather elaborate acrobatics routine. Bunjiro, the eldest, was barking out the orders as the other three performed a series of spectacular back handstands, leaps, and rolls. To the rear were Ikuko, Mayako, and Mei practicing the music for the afternoon's performance. Noriko was practicing a dance to the music, with little Nomi next to her doing a rather good job of copying her mother's movements.

To their left they found, to their surprise, Ennosuke, who was sitting in the strangest contraption Kenshin had ever seen—a western-style, high-backed chair with wheels. From the sing-song sound of Ennosuke's voice and the rather wild gesticulations he was making, it looked like he was rehearsing part of some play. When Ennosuke saw them, he stopped and rolled himself over.

"What do you think?" Ennosuke asked enthusiastically as he waved his hands over the chair. "The doctor lent it to me. I tell you, those gaijin sure do come up with some useful contraptions!" He circled around the two men, being careful not to hit them with his outstretched broken leg.

"Are you acting today?" Baiko asked in surprise.

"Sure! Why not, now that I can move around?" Ennosuke said. "It's just a little between-acts thing, but still—I'd go crazy if I had to wait weeks before getting into makeup again!" Then, with a quick nod of the head, he was off to practice some more.

As for Orinosuke and Ryosuke, they were in the center of the theater trying to attach the portable ramp to the front of the stage.

"This isn't going to work," they could hear Orinosuke say in a disgusted voice. "I don't care how many nails you put in this thing, it isn't going to hold."

"Will you shut up already?" Ryosuke snapped. He had three nails sticking out of his mouth and a hammer in his hand. "Just because we don't have time to find a carpenter doesn't mean we can't get this done—ouch!!"

He spit out the nails and dropped the hammer. "Damn—that hurts!" he cursed as he looked at the thumb he had just hit instead of the nail. He stuck the offending digit into his mouth and started sucking on it to calm the pain. As he did, the ramp detached itself from the stage and clattered to the ground.

"What did I tell you," Orinosuke fumed. "This is ridiculous—the whole idea of making this damned trip was ridiculous! First the accident with that damned wagon, then the bandits—we shouldn't have to put up with this!"

Ryosuke rounded on him, throbbing thumb forgotten. "Just shut up, will you? Just cut it out! Father's already given you permission to leave—isn't that enough for you? Just drop it!" He picked up the hammer again and tried once more to position the ramp on the edge of the stage.

By this time, Kenshin and Baiko had reached them and had grabbed the sides of the ramp to steady it. Ryosuke gave them a look of thanks, then started placing another nail for yet another attempt at securing the ramp to the stage.

"It's about time you two showed up," Orinosuke snarled at them. "Where have you been? You were expected half an hour ago."

"Lay _off_!" Ryosuke growled through his mouth full of nails.

"Gomen nasai," Baiko said, bowing deeply as he tried to hold the now shaking ramp, "but your father told us to blanket the city with posters, and it's a big city. Say, exactly what are you trying to do with this thing anyway?"

Ryosuke wiped his brow with his forearm, then spit out the nails. "I don't supposed either of you is any good with a hammer and nails, are you? We've got to get this thing attached to the front as a kind of walkway. That's how our stage is set up in Kagoshima—we bring the play into the audience so they feel like they're part of the action. We were so late in getting here, though, that we couldn't hire a carpenter to do it, and I'm hopeless with a hammer, and First Brother's arm is still sore from that gash he got in the fight yesterday…."

Baiko took the hammer from Ryosuke and picked up the nails. "Here, leave this to me," he said. "I learned some carpentry in the army. You get me those two wooden trunks you use for costumes, and I'll make you a walkway you could march an army over."

Orinosuke's eyes bored into Baiko's as he tried to decide whether to trust a mere former soldier with the job or not. Then he glanced back at Ryosuke, who was sucking on his injured thumb again. Kenshin could almost hear him think, 'Pathetic.' After another moment of glaring at everyone around him, Orinosuke shouted out, "Bunjiro, Byako! Go empty the two costume trunks and bring them here right now! And mind you fold those costumes up neatly, or your grandmother will have your hides!"

Baiko grinned and bowed deeply. "Thank you for your confidence, Orinosuke-san," he said. "You won't regret it, I promise!"

"I'm _not_ confident," Orinosuke snapped, "and this thing had better not collapse during the performance, or you'll be sorry you were ever born!" Then he stalked off to a small side table and started wetting an inkstone in preparation for writing.

"You really think you can do this?" Ryosuke asked Baiko.

"Sure, no problem," Baiko reassured him. "You go on and rehearse with Himura. I'll have this done in a jiffy."

"Well, if you say so," Ryosuke said hesitantly, but they could tell he was relieved. "Come on, Himura-san, we've got work to do."

Kenshin whispered, "Good luck," then followed Ryosuke up onto the stage. He reached for a pair of high geta that someone had left there for him and started warming up with some of the onnagata kata he had invented for himself. Ryosuke watched as Kenshin practiced the mincing steps and graceful arm movements of a woman. Not bad, Ryosuke noted, but nowhere near as fluid as they had been just two days ago. Great, he thought darkly—all he needed now was to find that the rurouni had forgotten everything they had taught him. But as he continued to watch, he saw that Kenshin's movements became smoother and more natural-looking. In fact, he could have sworn he recognized some of his mother's distinctive mannerisms. Maybe everything would turn out fine….

"I hope you remember this play, Himura-san," Ryosuke finally said after a few minutes of watching, "because I don't think I can take any more setbacks today."

Kenshin put on his vacant smile and pretended to whip a fan modestly in front of his face.

"I don't know, Himura-san, what with everything that's happened these past two days and First Brother getting on my nerves, I'm not sure I'm in the right frame of mind for doing comedy today. I may have to play a practical joke on someone just to get in the mood."

Kenshin stopped in mid-step, his senses on sudden alert. Ryosuke, who up until this moment had been the picture of glumness, now had a strange glint in his eye. Why did Kenshin get the distinct impression that the person Ryosuke was thinking of playing this little joke on was Kenshin himself?

"Perhaps sessha could tell you a funny story to get you in the mood," he said quickly. Anything to avoid a practical joke by an obvious master of the art!

"I don't know…," Ryosuke demurred, but Kenshin started in anyway, telling him about the farmer at Kenshin's first performance who had proposed marriage to him. As he came to the actual proposal and how Baiko pretended to be his fiance, Ryosuke roared with laughter.

"You're right, Himura-san, that _was_ pretty funny! A marriage proposal! And Baiko your fiance? Priceless!" He reached behind the curtain that formed the stage's backdrop and grabbed his props. "Come on, I think I'm in the mood now. Let's rehearse!"

Kenshin silently breathed a sigh of relief.

It had been two days since Kenshin's first performance, and only three since he had been taught what to do, yet everything seemed to come back to him quickly. When he would have a momentary lapse, Ryosuke would quickly supply a cue, and then he'd remember. The first run-through was a bit stiff, but considering how new Kenshin was to all this, it went quite well. The second run-through went much more smoothly, with the two of them starting to goad each other on the way they had at the first performance.

Ryosuke, in fact, was amazed as he watched Kenshin perform. Had it only been three days since he had begun teaching Kenshin this part? Except for the fact that Kenshin had no lines to speak, he could have passed for a fairly competent kabuki actor. As they finished the climactic bean-throwing scene, Ryosuke jumped to his feet and pounded him on the back saying, "Great job, Himura-san, great job, especially considering all the distractions!"

Distractions? Kenshin had been concentrating so hard he had blocked out all the commotion going on around them, but now he noticed that the women were still practicing their instruments, and Baiko and Orinosuke were hammering fabric bunting to the sides of the now firmly attached ramp. Ryosuke was already admiring it and trying it out by jumping on it to test its strength. "First Brother!" Ryosuke called out. "Hop up here with me—let's give it a try!"

He took a fighting stance, and suddenly Orinosuke was up there with him, a fierce grin on his face. The two circled, then suddenly lunged at each other in a perfect imitation of a swordfight. They swung and parried, thrust and blocked, until finally Ryosuke had his sword at Orinosuke's neck. At least he would have if he had actually been holding a sword in his hand. It was so realistic, in fact, that even for Kenshin it took a moment to realize that it had all been choreographed, and they had done it all with nothing but air in their hands. Those kabuki kata really worked! Orinosuke jumped up now from his position on the floor as if nothing had happened and turned to Baiko with a curt bow. "Quite satisfactory," was all he said. Then he jumped off the ramp and walked away.

"Why, I do believe First Brother just complimented you!" Ryosuke said to Baiko. "That's one for the record books!" Baiko just beamed.

"Well, Himura-san, we'd better get this stage cleared," Ryosuke said now as he watched his brother looking expectantly out the theater door. "Those extras should have been here by now, and they'll need an empty stage to practice on."

Baiko returned to putting the bunting on the ramp while Kenshin and Ryosuke started moving the props backstage. As they did, Ryosuke found himself pondering a question that had been bugging him ever since their fight with the bandits: how could he, let alone his father, have missed the fact that this unassuming young man was not what he seemed? All of them, except perhaps his oldest brother, had believed Kenshin was exactly what he appeared to be—a homeless wanderer down on his luck. Yes, Kenshin carried a sword, but then most people did nowadays just for personal protection. Who would have thought the man actually was a master swordsman? Ryosuke had always considered himself an astute observer of human behavior, as any good actor must be, so how could he have been so wrong about the talents of this man? Yes, he had noticed a kind of confidence lurking in the background of Kenshin's demeanor that one wouldn't expect in a down-and-out vagabond, yet….

As he continued to watch Kenshin at work, he started scrutinizing the vacant smile and the purposely expressionless eyes. That's when Ryosuke understood: the man was, in reality, a consummate actor—in fact, such a good actor that he had managed to fool even Daisuke, whom everyone considered to be one of Japan's greatest. Only Orinosuke hadn't been fooled, although he was sure even his brother had not realized the extent of the rurouni's hidden talent.

So was his brother right that Kenshin was a danger to them all? Had they all been suckered in by Kenshin's seeming innocence to the point that they had put everyone's life at risk? Ryosuke's mind raced through the events of the past four days—the way Kenshin had rushed to help them when the wagon fell on Ennosuke's leg, the way Kenshin had saved Byako from breaking his neck, the way Kenshin had managed to defeat the yakuza without killing a single one of them. And despite the fact that twice Orinosuke had physically threatened him, Kenshin had not lifted a finger in self-defense. No, these were not the actions of a dangerous man, but they _were_ the actions of a man who possessed supreme confidence in his own skills. So why was Kenshin taking such extraordinarly steps to hide them? It just didn't make sense.

Ryosuke finally couldn't stand it anymore. As Kenshin passed by him with an armload of props, he stopped him and said, "Himura-san, I'm a blunt man. I say what's on my mind, social graces be damned. We all know now that you're no mere wanderer. You've got talent with a sword that defies belief. I can think of at least a dozen men in Kagoshima alone who would hire you in a second as a bodyguard, so it can't be that no one's ever offered you a job. So why do you play-act at being a rurouni?"

Kenshin was so astonished by Ryosuke's question that he almost dropped what he was carrying. Not for the first time had this man surprised him with his sharp insights. He quickly put the vacant smile back on his face and said simply, "This one wouldn't be suited very well to a job like that."

Now that Ryosuke had figured out that it was all an act, however, he found himself a bit annoyed with Kenshin's evasiveness. "Not good enough, Himura-san. I can understand why you might not want to stay in the army, but I can't understand why you'd want to hide such a prodigious talent. Not when you could easily make your way in the world with it."

A moment passed as the smile faded, replaced by an inscrutible look that defied analysis. "Ryosuke-san," Kenshin responded carefully, "my shishou taught that a practitioner of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu should answer only to his own conscience, never to the orders of another. Sessha disobeyed that teaching only once. It was a big mistake." Then he turned quickly and went behind the curtains with his armload of props. This was definitely a conversation he did not want to prolong.

It was as he was going backstage that he sensed it—the unmistakable ki of a large group of armed men coming their way. It was such an unexpected event that he stopped what he was doing and stood stock still, his concentration set solely on the mass of ki moving his way. They were trained swordsmen, he could tell, and they were on edge, but they didn't seem to be on their way to battle. He stepped back through the curtain onto the stage to see what was going on just as Orinosuke came through the theater door yelling, "Finally! The extras are here!"

Extras. Daisuke had mentioned something about extras that morning. Now Kenshin realized he had no idea what that meant, but he had the uncomfortable feeling it had something to do with the swordsmen who were fast approaching the theater. He had no desire to give Ryosuke another opportunity to ask any more uncomfortable questions, but Ryosuke was the only person nearby who could answer his question. So, Kenshin walked back over to him and asked as calmly as he could, "What exactly are extras?"

"Extras?" Ryosuke responded somewhat absently. His mind was still chewing over what Kenshin had said before. "Oh, they're kind of like filler on the stage—background soldiers and the like. Why?"

"The men coming now—they're the extras?" Kenshin pressed.

Ryosuke looked at him now and noticed that although Kenshin's face showed nothing, his eyes were tense and wary. "Aa, they're the extras—members of Shimazu-sama's ceremonial guard. We usually use apprentices for this, but …."

"His ceremonial guard?" Kenshin's voice sounded calm, but inside his stomach was tying itself into a huge knot. He needed to disappear, and fast! As innocently as he could, he said, "Well, if you don't need this one anymore, perhaps sessha could go find someplace quiet to practice moving like a woman?"

"Yeah, sure, Himura-san…," Rysouke started to say, but Kenshin was already gone. In just the two seconds it had taken Ryosuke to say those few words, Kenshin had disappeared. How could a man move so fast that one's eyes literally couldn't take it in? It was impossible, yet…. He didn't have time to think on it any further, though, for his father now entered the theater at the head of twelve swordsmen dressed in the uniform of the Shimazu clan.

"Halt!" Daisuke shouted out. "At ease, men. Wait here while we prepare the stage."

"What took you so long?" an irritated Orinosuke said as soon as Daisuke had given the order.

"I'm well aware of how late it is," Daisuke answered testily. "Suffice to say that when I got to the governor's mansion, I was waylaid by Shimazu-sama's personal secretary. He needed to talk to me about our encounter with the bandits yesterday…."

"I knew it!" Orinosuke broke in darkly. "I knew that so-called rurouni would get us into trouble with the government! I warned you…."

"It's not what you think," Daisuke snapped back. "I'll tell you about it at lunch. Now let's get these men divided up and get on with it."

He turned and practically bumped right into the ramp that now stuck straight out into the audience space. "What the…," he sputtered. He stepped back to admire it, then called up to Ryosuke, who had just put away the last of the props, "Did you attach the ramp by yourself? I'm impressed! It's actually quite sturdy."

Ryosuke laughed. "Actually, it was Baiko-san who did it. Seems he's got talents we never dreamed of!"

Daisuke walked around the ramp, then peeked behind the bunting. "Brilliant!" he enthused. "Using our trunks like that for stability—brilliant! Well, go tell the women to stop practicing, and take the boys outside to finish whatever they're doing. Third Son," he called over to Ennosuke, who was doing wheelies in his wheelchair, "get yourself and that contraption out of here before you get run over. First Son and I need to divide these men up and run them through their paces."

Orinosuke was already in the process of selecting six men for his group, but the men weren't being very attentive. Daisuke was surprised—these were considered to be Shimazu-sama's best-trained and best-disciplined men. He strode over to give them a lecture on discipline but stopped as he caught some of their conversation.

"…killed his brother," he heard one soldier say to another, "so he's out for revenge…."

"What's going on?" Daisuke broke in, pushing the men aside as he did so. "Who's out for revenge?"

"Ozawa-san—the tall one over there. He says the man who killed his brother during the Bakumatsu has been sighted in Miyazaki, and he's sworn to find him and get his revenge!" one of the soldiers explained excitedly.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Daisuke muttered. "Well, not on my time he won't!" He started heading for the man in question, but the soldier stopped him.

"Daisuke-san, you don't understand! The man who killed his brother was the Hitokiri Battousai. _That's_ who's been sighted—the demon of Kyoto! No one's seen him for years, and now he's been sighted right here in Miyazaki! Don't you realize what that means? Every one of us is in danger with him around!"

"That's ridiculous!" Daisuke said, his temper rising. "First off, no one even knows what the Hitokiri Battousai looked like…."

"Oh, yes we do!" another soldier broke in. "He's got…."

But Daisuke was angry now and wasn't listening. They were already running late. All he needed now was a bunch of pumped-up swordsmen out for revenge against some figment of their imagination. They'd never get anything done at this rate! He put his fingers in his mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle before the man could finish his sentence. Everyone went silent.

"Now listen to me—all of you!" Daisuke shouted out, his eyes glowering. "All this talk about a hitokiri and revenge, I'll have none of it, you understand? You're here to follow _our_ orders, not to chase down some ridiculous rumor! You will say and do nothing about this revenge business while you are under our command, or I will report you to your captain!"

The men started grumbling and eyeing the doorway nervously as if they expected the Hitokiri Battousai to burst through it at any moment.

"Remember," Daisuke added ominously, "you are here at the orders of your lord. Therefore, disobeying our orders will be considered the same as disobeying _his_ orders, and you all know the consequences of _that_, I presume. Do I make myself clear?"

Silence descended once again.

"Good!" He looked around at the twelve soldiers, fixing them all with the fiercest glare in his arsenal of acting techniques. "Now that we understand each other, let's get to work."

He signaled for his contingent of six men to follow him; Orinosuke did likewise. As Orinosuke did, though, he said softly to the soldier next to him, "I'd like to hear more about this Hitokiri Battousai. You men actually know what he looks like, I take it."

The soldier looked back to make sure Daisuke was not within earshot, then whispered, "Yeah, a few of the others even spent time with him once. Come by the tavern after the show—the one near the governor's mansion. I'll introduce you."

Orinosuke nodded his head in agreement, then proceeded with his father to run the men through the scenes in which they would appear.

Kenshin, meanwhile, had taken off like a shot and was far into the woods before the soldiers even set foot in the theater. Shimazu-sama's ceremonial guard were the extras? How much worse could things get? 'Ceremonial guard' was the name the daimyo of Satsuma, now the governor of Satsuma, used for his contingent of bodyguards—one hundred of his best-trained and most loyal samurai. He had heard that to be accepted into the ceremonial guard, one had to serve with distinction as a soldier for a minimum of five years. He knew about them first-hand, for he had met several of them during the Bakumatsu, at the crucial meeting that reestablished the alliance between the Chousu and Satsuma Ishin Shishi.

It had taken place two years after the disastrous Chousu assault on the Imperial Palace—the assault that had led Katsura to send Kenshin and Tomoe into hiding in Otsu. The attack had caused such a serious rift between Chousu and Satsuma that Satsuma briefly went over to the Bakufu side. So, when a meeting of conciliation was proposed two years later, no one on either side trusted the other. Thus it was that Katsura, not being sure of his own safety at a meeting with former enemies, had brought Kenshin along as protection, in addition to five other bodyguards. The daimyo of Satsuma, afraid for his envoy's safety as well, had sent ten of his own, all drawn from the ranks of his ceremonial guard. And there they had all sat, staring at one another for hours on end.

That had been only five years ago. That meant there was a good chance that some, if not all, of the ten bodyguards who had been at that meeting—who had seen the Hitokiri Battousai up close—were now in Miyazaki with the governor. Well, it wouldn't be the first time he would have to leave a place because his identity had been discovered. All things being equal, in fact, this would be the point at which he would normally just disappear, never to be found again. So why was he hesitating? Every nerve in his body was telling him to leave _right now_, before anything else happened. So what was holding him back?

Kenshin had now come to the edge of a cliff far from the theater. Below him, spreading out like a beautiful white fan, was a beach lined with palm trees. Beyond the beach stretched the blue waters of the sea. The sight was breathtaking. He stared at it a long time, letting the beauty of the place calm his agitated mind. As he gazed out, it gradually dawned on him why he couldn't bring himself to leave. It was the sense of belonging that had slowly crept over him the past four days. How it had happened he didn't know, but somehow Daisuke and Ikuko and Ryosuke and Noriko and—well, actually, everyone except Orinosuke—had made him almost feel like part of their family. How could he repay such kindness by breaking his promise to help them, and breaking it on the very day of their most important performance? Maybe, if he was lucky, he could do this one performance and _then_ disappear.

He sighed. The one thing he didn't want, he knew, was to be present when the family found out who he really was. It was always so painful to see the look of fear and betrayal come over the faces of those who had taken him in thinking he was just a rurouni. To see that on the faces of this family? He didn't think he could bear it. On the other hand, nothing this family had done so far had conformed to anything he had experienced anywhere else. Never in a thousand years would he have expected their reaction to seeing him fight the bandits to be, 'Wow, what a show-stopper!' In fact, he had almost started thinking that maybe this family might consider having an infamous hitokiri living with them to be way to attract even more people to the theater. And why not? After all, Satsuma had been second only to Chousu in its fervent pursuit of the revolution. Wouldn't its citizens be more likely to accept him? But then there was that Satsuma soldier they heard about this morning in the city, the one seeking revenge for the death of his brother. No, it was pretty clear now that there was probably no place in Japan that he could go without someone wanting to kill him for his past. It was just a matter of time.

He looked out once more at the beauty of the ocean, then turned back toward the forest to begin his practice, for now he had resolved to do at least this one performance before going on his way. It was an odd feeling to know that this time it would not be his sword that would protect him from his enemies, but his ability to act like a woman. He reassured himself that what Baiko had said that first day had been right so far—no one could tell he was a man, let alone who he really was, once he was in costume. Even that doctor who thought he knew Kenshin from the Kihetai hadn't recognized him when he was dressed as a woman.

He began with some simple walking and stooping exercises, adding the hand and arm movements he had copied so carefully from watching Ikuko. Then it was on to sitting and standing, pouring tea and fanning, and all the other womanly things he would be doing onstage. His concentration was such that he lost track of time; only the occasional grumble of his stomach reminded him that lunchtime was fast approaching. So it was with a bit of a start that he heard Baiko call out, "Oi, Himura!" He turned to greet his friend who, he noted with surprise, seemed uncharacteristically agitated. Must be hungry, he figured.

"Is it lunchtime already?" Kenshin asked with a laugh. "Gomen nasai!" So into his practice was he that without thinking, he gave a graciously feminine bow.

"Himura, cut out the onnagata stuff," Baiko said in an urgent voice. "You've got a big problem."

Kenshin immediately dropped the act and went on alert.

"You know that guy those soldiers were talking about this morning? The one out to avenge his brother's death?" Baiko went on. "Well, it turns out he's one of Daisuke-san's extras. He was there, at the theater! And that's all those guys were talking about—about how the Hitokiri Battousai was in Miyazaka and how this guy Ozawa was going to hunt him down and kill him!"

Kenshin's heart dropped. In a grim voice, he said, "So, the family knows about me, then."

"What? No—the old man cut them off before they could give him a description. He even told them if they didn't shut up about it, he'd have their commander order 'em to commit seppuku for insubordination!" Baiko gave an involuntary shudder at the thought. "But that's not the problem. This guy'll be back there this afternoon to be in the show. What if he sees you? What if…."

"Are they still there now?" Kenshin cut in.

"No, they won't be back until about a half hour before the show, but what difference does that make? He'll still be there later on!"

"That's okay, then," Kenshin said with more assurance than he really felt. "By that time, I'll be in costume."

"Yeah, but Himura…. Wait—you're not still going out on that stage today, are you? This is a real threat! If you ask me, this pretty much takes precedence over any promise you made to Daisuke-san!"

Kenshin patted Baiko on the shoulder and said, "Calm down. After all, didn't you say even my own mother wouldn't recognize me under all that makeup and a wig?"

Baiko couldn't believe his ears. Kenshin was going to go through with this performance? "How can you be so nonchalant!" he blurted out. "This guy's out for your head! Don't you realize that?"

Kenshin sighed, then leaned back against one of the trees and closed his eyes. How to explain what had become the recurring theme of his life these past few years? "Baiko," he finally said, "here's the thing. This man—Ozawa-san?—he has a legitimate claim on my life."

"What?!"

"Sessha took the life of his brother; his claim is something sessha must accept. Now that sessha knows this man is here in Miyazaki, what this one must do is get a note to him. It will be an offer to meet him at a given time and place so he can challenge me, as his honor requires. The note will also tell him that sessha now devotes his life to atoning for all the lives lost to his blade and that sessha has vowed never to kill again. If, under those circumstances, he still wishes to meet me, then this one will be there."

Baiko was in shock. "You mean you'll just let him kill you?" he asked incredulously. "Just like that?"

Kenshin gave the tiniest of laughs. "No one said anything about that. There _is_ a difference between accepting a challenge and being killed, you know. Although," he added as an afterthought, "there is always the chance in any encounter…."

What kind of talk was that? Baiko just stared at Kenshin with incomprehension. He was beginning to realize that even after four days, he really didn't know this man very well at all. What he did know, however, was enough to tell him that Kenshin was one of the most honorable people he had ever met, and he'd be damned if he'd just let the guy throw his life away. So he crossed his arms and planted his feet and said, "No. I can't let you do that. I'll help you pack your things, I'll help you sneak out of here, I'll help you do anything you need, but you're getting out of here _now_, before anyone gets wind of this. You've already got that damned Orinosuke breathing down your back. Hell, he's already tried to attack you twice. What more do you want? Are you trying to get yourself killed or something?"

Kenshin rounded on him suddenly. "Do you think I care whether I live or die?" he snapped. Then he stopped. 'I?' He quickly shook his head as if to get his brain back in gear, then said in a quieter voice. "Someone once made sessha promise to keep on living, and so this one shall honor that promise, just as sessha must try to honor the promise made to Daisuke-san. If there is a way to do that safely, then it should be done. This Ozawa-san will not attempt anything during the performance, and once my promise to Daisuke-san is fufilled today, sessha will be gone. Believe me, sessha would not do anything that might endanger Daisuke-san's family."

Baiko let out an exasperated sigh. It was pretty clear that nothing he could say would change Kenshin's mind, so he turned and started walking silently back towards the theater. Kenshin followed. Baiko's mind, however, was anything but silent. He had had enough of battles and swords and friends injured or killed, and Kenshin was a friend, even if he had known him only a few days. He thought back to how terrified he had felt as Kenshin followed him through the city from the rooftops. He thought about how upset he had felt when he realized that Kenshin had been no more than a boy when the Ishin Shishi turned him into a hitokiri. He remembered wondering, back when he first met Kenshin, why someone everyone considered to be one of the greatest patriots didn't have some kind of high-ranking job in the new government. Now he knew. It was Kenshin himself, in fact, who had answered that one, back when that doctor had recognized him from the Kihetai. The Bakumatsu was no place for a boy with idealism, was what he had said. It was as if Kenshin regretted the whole thing.

"You know, it's all that Katsura Kogoro's fault," Baiko said to Kenshin, breaking the uncomfortable. "He should've known better than to take a kid who's not old enough to understand what's going on and turn him into some kind of killing machine. How could he have done that to you? I mean, he stole your life from you even before you got to live it!"

Kenshin looked at him in surprise—no one had ever suggested such a thing to him before. He gave a rueful little laugh. "Would you believe," he said, "that when Katsura-san asked me to deliver heaven's justice, this one didn't even realize that he meant 'go out and be a hitokiri?' Sessha was very naïve. Still, sessha knew that the new age had to come, and come soon, even if this one did not survive to see it. My commitment to that never wavered. So, don't be too hard on Katsura Kogoro. He was a courageous man who managed to sweep away a hated and unjust government. And in many ways, he was very good to me."

"Good to you?" Baiko said disgustedly. "Listen, Himura, with friends like that, you don't need enemies. If he hadn't turned you into a hitokiri, you wouldn't be in the fix you're in."

Kenshin smiled. "It's okay, Baiko—sessha's used to it by now."

Used to it? Well, maybe Kenshin was used to it, but Baiko sure wasn't about to accept it. In fact, now that they were close enough to the theater to make out the roof through the trees, he started worrying all over again for Kenshin's safety. He wondered how long they really had before someone, most likely Orinosuke, discovered Kenshin's true identity. He could only imagine what would happen then. It really was amazing, when he thought about it, that Daisuke and his family still had no idea what the Hitokiri Battousai looked like, but he guessed that came from living in Kagoshima instead of Kyoto all these years. A piece of luck, really. He wondered if Kenshin knew why the family had left the capital back during the war—it was something he himself had only just found out.

"You know what Ennosuke-san told me this morning while I was wheeling him around in that contraption of his?" Baiko asked conversationally. "Seems all this time he and his brothers thought Daisuke-san moved them from Kyoto because all the assassinations had scared people away from coming to the theater, but that wasn't really it."

"It wasn't?" That was the explanation Kenshin had heard from Ikuko, and it had him feel even guiltier about his past.

"No—seems that old Daisuke-san was secretly funneling money to the Ishin Shishi, and after that massacre at the Ikedaya, he found out he was on a Shinsengumi hit list. He just told them about it two nights ago. Can you believe it?"

Kenshin stopped walking. Daisuke had been actively supporting the Ishin Shishi? Then it _wasn't_ entirely his doing—or, more precisely, the Hitokiri Battousai's doing—that the family had to leave Kyoto! "Baiko," Kenshin said, his face brightening considerably, "that's about the best piece of news sessha has heard all day!"

Baiko seemed genuinely surprised. "How could being on a hit list be good news?"

"It's just, well, these people have been so kind to me, almost like this one is part of their family, so it was really weighing on my mind that it was most likely my actions that had caused them to lose their livelihood in Kyoto. If that hadn't happened, then they wouldn't be facing the prospect of having their eldest son leave them now. But now sessha knows it wasn't just because of me. That's a relief."

"What do you care what that bastard does, after all he's done to you? You're crazier than I thought."

"Baiko, he may be a bastard, but he's still a human being. He's just trying to live his life the best he knows how."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a strange feeling came over Kenshin that he had heard someone say those very words to him once upon a time. "Geez," he murmured to no one in particular, "now sessha's starting to sound like Hiko…."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Kenshin shrugged, a strange half-smile on his face. "Come on, we'd better get a move on or there won't be anything left for us to eat." And with that, the two hurried the rest of the way to the theater.

Japanese Terms:

Gomen nasai: very sorry.  
Onnagata: a man who portrays a woman.

Kata: prescribed moves for learning a martial art.

Shimazu-sama: Lord Shimazu, former daimyo, now governor, of Satsuma.

Bakumatsu: Japanese civil war.

Daimyo: feudal lord, a rank that was eliminated with the end of the Tokugawa shogunate.

Ishin Shishi: the anti-shogunate rebels.

Author's Note: That quote from Hiko appears in the manga (or was it the OAV) where Hiko tries to prevent Kenshin from going off to fight in the Bakumatsu (it also appears in my previous fic, _Descent into Madness_.) At least this time it's in a gentler context! I should mention that the business about the ceremonial guard—one hundred of the best-trained swordsmen, etc.—is all a fiction of my imagination, so don't expect to find it in any history books or anything.

In my little introduction, I mentioned that I had somehow gotten off course in this story. It's true, and that is why I must state right now and very publicly that I owe Co-Conspirator a huge debt of gratitude for forcefully pointing this out to me—twice. I even had a whole, wonderful, angsty speech all laid out for Kenshin, but she was absolutely right that it was the wrong thing in the wrong place. Believe me when I say you would not have been happy with this chapter if I hadn't listened to her. Of course, maybe you're not happy with the chapter anyway, but she and I are, and that's all that counts! My deep and humble thanks, Co-Conspirator!

So, the noose tightens even further for our hero. Will Kenshin's onnagata act be able to fool battle-hardened bodyguards who know what he looks like? Will the ramp stay intact? Will there be any lunch left by the time they get back? Will Conspirator ever stop asking stupid rhetorical questions? Tune in next time, fans, for the exciting answers!

Thanks to all of you who have reviewed so far: Calger 459, Haku Baikou, Bishounen Hunter, BakaBokken, Hitokiri oro-chan, PraiseDivineMercy, Hitokiri of the Bloodless Moon, Maeve Riannon, beriath, koe 760, Shimizu Hitomi, Cattibrie393, Ayumi Ikari, Lucrecia Le Vrai, Audi Daudi, Miranda Crystal-Bearer, Wistful-Eyes, ESP, Arcueid, Corran Nackatori, Marissa Willems, Hitokiri-san.,Toilet Marauder, TawnyBaka, AmunRa, MisaoShiru, November Dusk, zig-zag, Cetsunai, dark sapphire, Steffel, Baru-chan, iceblazingpheonix, wyrd, curiosicat, sasha, Ayashi1, LadyBattousai456, Neko Oni-chan, laial, audra no baka, tatk1, lilmatchgirl007, De Lazy Lime, Melissa, daniel-gudman, Kaloo, Terry McElrath, Methodic Madness, Darkening Dreams, anime kirei, chibi rurouni, and Romm. Wow, that's a long list! You've all been so supportive of my efforts, which has made me feel extremely guilty for taking two months to update. Therefore, I promise here and now _not_ to take so long to post the next, and probably final, chapter. In case I do, however, there's now a Rabid Conspirator Update Society, started by some of those explosive-lobbing fans I mentioned at the top. The URL is (take out the spaces): (http: s8 / invisionfree. com / RCUS), Good thing you guys don't know where I live!

Co-Conspirator: Wow. Long time no update. I really should apologize since the ridiculous delay was mostly my fault for being so busy. It won't happen again, I promise!! ' Anyway… I'm not too sure about the whole Ennosuke-in-a-wheelchair thing but then again why not? There wasn't a lot of action in this chapter, but there was some Kenshin-and-Baiko bonding time, not to mention a little bit of onnagata-ness. We're getting pretty close to the end here, but then again, that's the same thing we said in Chapter 6.

Next chapter: The plot thickens!! A challenge is issued, the actors are stirring, and the truth begins to unravel. Can Kenshin get away without being recognized? Will Orinsosuke uncover the truth? What about Ryosuke's threat to play a practical joke? Can Kenshin survive the day without being proposed to at least twice? Will we update before Christmas? YES!—C. What about an epilogue? hmmm, maybe… —C. Could I possibly ask any more questions? You'll never know unless you read the next chapter!! See you there.

And remember, comments, questions, and constructive criticisms are always welcome.


	10. chapter 10

While handing out flyers in Miyazaki, Kenshin is recognized, and now there's a rumor that the Hitokiri Battousai's in town. Kenshin knows he must leave the Daisuke family as soon as possible, but that may not be so easy.

Watsuki Nobuhiro. Jump Comics. Viz. Many others. Copyright holders all. Not me. Darn.

Here's a list of who's who in the Daisuke family:

Daisuke: also called Father, Father-in-Law.  
Orinosuke: also called First Son, First Brother.  
Ryosuke: also called Second Son, Second Brother.  
Ennosuke: also called Youngest Son, Youngest Brother.  
Ikuko: Daisuke's wife.  
Mayako: Orinosuke's wife.  
Mei: Ryosuke's wife.  
Noriko: Ennosuke's wife.  
Bunjiro, Byako: Orinosuke's sons.  
Saburo, Oda: Ryosuke's sons.  
Nomi: Ennosuke's daughter.

**An Unexpected Lesson  
By  
Conspirator**

**Chapter 10**

One thing you could say about being a rurouni—life was always full of surprises. Wandering as he did, Kenshin was always at the mercy of those who agreed to hire him, and so he had found himself working as a cook, a dishwasher, a blacksmith's helper, a farmhand, a handyman, even a babysitter once to twins. Never in a million years, though, would he have thought he'd end up as a kabuki actor, and an onnagata one at that. He had been understandably reluctant to agree to this crazy notion, but now that he had done it, now that he had actually performed before an audience, he found that Ikuko had been absolutely right—it _did_ feel good to make people laugh. Hell, it felt good to find _himself_ laughing. He only had about half a day left with this strange family before he would have to slip away; he was determined to enjoy every moment as much as he could. Despite everything, therefore, he actually found himself looking forward to the afternoon's performance.

And so, as he and Baiko entered the yard behind the theater to eat lunch, he wore a small smile on his face that, for once, was genuine. It didn't last long. As soon as they walked in, Ikuko was thrusting bento boxes into their hands with exhortations to hurry and eat, and everyone seemed to be talking to them all at once.

"Where did you say you found him?" Ryosuke finally managed to ask Baiko. "A mile from here?" Turning to Kenshin, he added gruffly, "When you said you were going somewhere to practice, I thought you meant somewhere near here! Do you realize what time it is?"

Kenshin was caught off guard. His smile faded as he heard a sarcastic snort coming from Orinosuke and felt the eyes of everyone bearing down upon him. He felt like an errant child caught coming home late after curfew. He was determined, however, not to let anything stand in the way of his enjoying this day, so he turned on his vacant smile.

"Please forgive sessha," he said as he bowed low in apology. "It's just that at the end of this path is a cliff overlooking a beach and the sea. It was so beautiful that this one lost track of time."

He peeked out through his bangs to gauge their reaction and saw the faces around him soften. Once again he found himself amazed at the disarming power of that silly little smile.

"A beach?" Ryosuke's seven-year-old, Saburo, suddenly piped up. "Mama, a beach! Can we go shelling? I'll bet there are lots of shells there! Please, Mama, please?"

Now Saburo's little brother Oda and Ennosuke's three-year-old, Nomi, started begging as well. Mei looked to her husband, who looked to his father, who gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement. "Yes, dumpling," she smiled. "Tomorrow morning you and all your cousins can go shelling."

A whoop went up from the children, and Nomi ran over to hug Kenshin, saying, "You, too, Uncle Ken-san—you come, too!"

Kenshin just barely managed to save his bento box from the onslaught. "But sessha's not a cousin," he laughed as he extricated himself from the hug. "You bring some back for me instead, okay?" No doubt about it, he was going to miss these children.

The notion of doing something fun released the children's pent-up energy. The past four days had been hard on them, and now nothing short of the voice of doom was going to quiet them down. That's exactly what they got.

"Children!" Daisuke thundered in his most theatrical manner. "That's enough!"

A silence fell, broken only by a giggle from Byako. Daisuke fixed him with a glare. "Daughter-in-Law, take these scofflaws out front to play, would you, before they taste the wrath of their grandfather!" Another whoop went up. "The cheek of that boy," Daisuke added in a mock pout, "laughing at my best demon's roar."

Everyone was chuckling now, annoyance at Kenshin's lateness all but forgotten. In fact, Daisuke seemed extremely pleased with himself.

"Gentlemen," he said with gusto after the women and children had left, "we have business to discuss. It seems that the yakuza we fought yesterday had a price on their heads—a very hefty price—and we, as the men who defeated them, have earned ourselves a very substantial reward from the government!" He smiled broadly as he took in the looks of amazement on the faces around him. "This," he said to Orinosuke, "is what Shimazu-sama's personal secretary had to tell me this morning.

"The reward," he continued, "is so substantial that all of us, including our two swordsmen here plus the horse and wagon, could all take the ferry back to Kagoshima instead of going back by land, and _still_ there would be enough left over for generous individual rewards! Wife has suggested we do this in light of Youngest Son's injury. Whatever is left over will be split evenly between all six of us. After all, if it were not for these two," he turned now to bow deeply to Kenshin and Baiko, "I believe we would not even be alive today."

Daisuke looked up to find everyone in a state of shock. Baiko, who had a mouthful of food, was so surprised he didn't know whether to swallow first or return the bow first, and so found himself somewhere in between. As for Kenshin, he seemed frozen with hashi halfway to his mouth. A reward? For fighting? Oh no, no, no, no, no!

"A reward," breathed Ryosuke. "Who would have thought…. I mean, a bunch of actors like us…."

"Well, we _did_ have some expert help," Ennosuke noted quickly with a bow in Kenshin and Baiko's direction.

"More expert than you know," Orinosuke muttered darkly as he sent a deadly glare at Kenshin.

"So, are we agreed, then? Daisuke asked. "We use part of the reward for the ferry and split the rest between the six of us?"

Orinosuke suddenly stood up. "You do what you want," he said disgustedly. "I'm through trying to convince you of your errors." Then he stalked out.

"What the hell is he talking about?" Daisuke started to ask, but Ryosuke said, "Just let him leave. As far as I'm concerned, you've got a deal. Right, Brother?"

Ennosuke nodded in agreement, as did Baiko, but Kenshin still seemed frozen. How could he possibly agree to such a thing? He lowered his hashi and said, "It is most kind of you, but sessha couldn't possibly…."

A sudden jab to his ribs cut him off. "It's most generous!" Baiko cut in. "We accept—don't we, Himura?"

"But…."

He jabbed Kenshin again. "Just smile and shut up!" he hissed urgently in Kenshin's ear. Kenshin smiled as ordered and nodded his head quickly.

"Excellent!" said Daisuke. He rubbed his hands together with satisfaction, then said, "This is clearly a good omen for the day, so let's take advantage of it and get to work—we've got a show to do in less than two hours! Baiko-san, you'll show the food and souvenir vendors where to set up when they get here. Himura-san, you and Second Son start getting the stage set for your play; Wife will come for you as soon as she's ready to do your make-up. The rest of you, let's get those costumes hung up backstage and get our make-up on. Warm-ups in forty-five minutes!" And with that, Daisuke and his sons quickly got up and left.

"What the hell were you thinking, telling them you can't accept that reward?" Baiko practically exploded as soon as the two were alone. "You trying to draw more attention to yourself or something? Of all the stupid, lame-brained things to say…."

"You don't understand!" Kenshin said tersely, clearly taken aback at Baiko's outburst. "There's no way sessha will ever accept money for wielding a sword!"

Baiko sighed in exasperation. "Himura," he said slowly as if he were talking to a dolt, "you're on the verge of being discovered, which you're trying to avoid, right?"

"Right."

"And the idea is for you to leave before anyone figures out who you really are, right?"

"Right."

"And you're determined to leave as soon as your play's over, right?"

"Right."

Baiko sighed once more. Could the man really be this dense? "Then why, Himura, do you need to say anything at all about the reward? You won't even be here when they give it out, you idiot!"

"Oh…."

"'Oh?'" Baiko spluttered in exasperation. "That's all you have to say is 'oh?' Listen, Himura, _you_ might not be around when they give out that reward, but I _will_ be, so don't go screwing this thing up for me! I mean, I could really use that money, but if they find out I've known all along that you're the Hitokiri Batt…."

Kenshin suddenly grabbed Baiko's arm and said, "Shh!" Not two seconds later, Ryosuke stuck his head out the backstage door calling out, "Hurry and finish, you two! The vendors are starting to show up already and we still have to get this stage ready!"

"Coming, coming!" Baiko called back as he tossed his bento box into a nearby trash heap. He got up to leave, but he turned back to Kenshin and said, "You know, you don't have to do this—you _could_ just take off right now. They've got plenty of time to figure out what to do without you."

Baiko was doing all he could to act nonchalant, but Kenshin could tell he was worried that something would happen when the ceremonial guards showed up. "It'll be okay," Kenshin reassured him. "Even if someone recognized me, they wouldn't risk doing anything about it during the performance. Anyway, sessha feels honor-bound to keep my promise to Daisuke-san. As soon as this one is done performing, sessha will leave. Everyone will be too busy to notice."

"Baiko, get out here—_now!_"

It was Orinosuke's voice, and Baiko quickly noted not only the irritated tone, but also the lack of an honorific. The old sourpuss was obviously in a particularly lousy mood. "I gotta get going," he said as he headed off, "but promise you won't leave without saying goodbye first."

Now there was a request Kenshin rarely, if ever, heard. "Sessha promises, but where will you be?"

"Look for me out front if I don't find you first," Baiko replied. "And remember, keep your mouth shut!" Then he hurried off towards the front courtyard.

The backstage area of the old Noh theater was a cavernous room, a room large enough to comfortably hold at least a dozen actors and their costumes, several musicians and their instruments, and still have room left over for boxes of props. When Kenshin had run off before lunch, the room had been virtually empty, but now it was all he could do to not run into someone or something. In one corner were Byako, Saburo, and Oda getting changed into their acrobat costumes, with help from Byako's mother Mayako. Noriko was opening a tall folding screen nearby and hanging what Kenshin figured must be her dancing costume on its top edge. Nearby, Ikuko had Bunjiro standing on a box with a too-long man's kimono draped on him as she worked to alter the garment to fit his short body. Along a good part of the back wall the men had rigged a taut rope on which Daisuke and Orinosuke were hanging costumes, most of which Kenshin recognized from their performance in the small hamlet two days before.

But it was what Ryosuke's wife Mei was doing that stopped him dead in his tracks. She had laid out four small mats and four low tables, on which she was calmly placing four heads. Each head had a face painted on it, and on each she placed a wig. It was all done so matter-of-factly—clearly nothing out of the ordinary—but for Kenshin it brought back sudden memories of black envelopes and the sound a head made as it tumbled from its owner. Mei noticed him staring and said, "I painted the faces myself. Do you like them?"

Her question quickly pulled Kenshin back to the present. "Aa," he stuttered, still trying to reconcile his memories with what he was seeing. "They're quite…realistic."

Mei tittered in embarrassment. "I made Husband's the most handsome," she whispered loudly. Then, blushing, she rushed off to start putting out mirrors and pots of make-up.

Kenshin tore his eyes away from the disturbing sight and headed for the boxes of props, which sat near the steps leading to the stage area. There was the chest of armaments that had so worried him that first evening, and boxes and boxes of all sorts of items, from the pots and pans needed for his own play to the parts for the barrier gate needed for the drama _Kanjincho_. He grabbed the box with the pots and pans and headed up the steps.

Ryosuke was pacing out measurements on the stage floor before placing various pieces of furniture, and he merely waved Kenshin over to the far end of the stage where the hearth had been set up. It didn't take long to unpack the box and place the items in the proper spot, so Kenshin headed back for more. Soon the two of them had nearly everything in place. As Ryosuke stood to survey the results, he said, "So, Himura-san, are you sorry you agreed to be an actor for us?"

"Sorry?" Kenshin repeated. A small smile crept onto his face. "Actually, it's been somewhat…enjoyable."

"You sound surprised, although considering the stage fright you had the other day, maybe you _are_ surprised. I must say you overcame it beautifully."

Kenshin chuckled. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Joining up with this family seemed to be having all sorts of effects on him.

"It was a new experience for this one to have so many people staring at him," he said truthfully. So was having people laugh at him instead of cower in fear, but he couldn't tell that to Ryosuke. "Anyway, sessha did want to avoid your cure for stage fright."

"My cure?" Ryosuke looked stumped. "Oh, yes, you mean that little goose in the posterior! Works every time!" he laughed. "Actually, Himura-san, you have the makings of a good actor, you know that? You might want to consider becoming an apprentice at our school when we get back to Kagoshima. I doubt your voice would be low enough to do men's roles, but you could certainly specialize in onnagata roles."

Kenshin choked. What the hell was wrong with his voice? "Sessha's no actor," he said in as deep a tone as he could muster.

Ryosuke fixed him with a stare. "Oh, come on, Himura-san—you've been acting the whole time you've been with us. You know you're no run-of-the-mill rurouni, not with the talent you've got with a sword, yet you were able to convince even my father that that's all you were. If that's not acting talent, then I'll eat my hat. And then there's the way you carry yourself—that kind of stage grace takes years to teach, but you've already got it down pat. Practically all you need is to learn the cadences of kabuki dialogue and you've got it made."

Baiko's advice echoed in Kenshin's mind, stopping him from telling Ryosuke the real reason he couldn't consider this strange idea. Instead, he said the only thing he could think of. "Oro?"

"No, I'm serious, Himura-san. Join us! You have no other job prospects, do you? What have you got to lose?"

Kenshin thought fast. What could he say that wouldn't give away his need to leave today? "Sessha could never afford the lessons," he finally managed.

"But once you collect your reward you could," Ryosuke countered. "Anyway, you could pay for it by teaching us your sword technique. It's like we said yesterday after you fought the yakuza, if we could do on stage what we saw you do, our audiences would go wild!"

Getting around this one was going to be a lot more difficult. "There is much to commend your own style, Kogen Itto-ryu," Kenshin tried. "It, too, has many leaps and flourishes in the advanced kata."

"But nothing like what you do. And the fact that it's Sengoku—that's the period a lot of our plays are set in. It's perfect!"

An abrupt silence descended, and Ryosuke suddenly felt an almost electric tension fill the air.

"The style you wish to learn is too deadly," Kenshin responded in a voice so cold that it stopped Ryosuke in his tracks. "It has no place in this new era of peace. Sessha will not teach it to anyone, ever. Those secrets will go with me to my grave." Then he turned to leave the stage.

The voice seemed so out of character for the Kenshin Ryosuke knew that, for a moment, he just stood and stared as Kenshin walked away. "Himura-san, wait!" he finally called out, but Kenshin had already disappeared through the door. "Damn," he muttered to himself. "I was hoping to ask if his technique could stand up to a hitokiri. Oh, well, it's only a rumor that one's in town anyway…."

He was getting lazy, that's what it was, Kenshin thought as he emerged once again into the room backstage. These people had made him feel so comfortable, so welcome, that he had begun to let down his barriers. If he had kept himself alert to the surrounding ki, he berated himself, he would have realized in advance that something was up, that Ryosuke would get too close to the truth of the rurouni, that Ryosuke would ask to learn what he would never teach. He made sure now that his face betrayed nothing, not happiness, not curiosity, certainly not the tension he was feeling, as he wove his way through the maze of people, props, and costumes towards the door leading outside. "Himura-san!" he heard Ikuko call out as he swept past, but he kept on going, not daring to interact with anyone until he had a chance to sort things out.

The wagon was not far off behind the theater, and he found refuge against its far side, where no one would see him. He leaned against a wheel and closed his eyes, then sank slowly to the ground and put his head in his hands. How naïve he was to ever think he could stay very long with this family. His life had been too violent, too blood-soaked—too different. He envied their seemingly carefree existence, where swordfights were something to choreograph for entertainment, where revenge might take the form of leaving the family and moving to Kyoto. He could never have fit in, not with his past. He remembered that first day when Ikuko had innocently tried to remove his sword, how without even thinking he had instinctively grabbed her wrist as if she were an enemy. He remembered how he had scared young Bunjiro with his sudden lecture on what it really meant to kill. Most of all, he remembered the look on Bunjiro's face yesterday when the boy saw the broken bodies of the yakuza Kenshin had fought. Baiko was right, he was damaged goods, and even now, after three years of wandering, after three years of trying to forget what he had been, he still couldn't be sure he could control the instincts of the hitokiri that still resided within him.

He stood up now, his mind more composed though certainly not calm, and took stock of the auras emanating from the theater. He had become sufficiently familiar with this family to be able to pick out at least the ki of the men. Nothing special there, he noted, except for a strange something—was it a sense of triumph?—coming from Orinosuke. Perhaps he had won his fight with his father, Kenshin thought, but as he focused further on it, he recognized it as the sensation of someone ready to spring a trap. There was only one trap Kenshin was aware of where Orinosuke was concerned, and that had to do with Kenshin's identity. Baiko had assured him that the ceremonial guards Daisuke had hired as extras had no opportunity to tell anyone what they knew. What if Baiko was wrong?

Then he sensed someone coming from the back of the theater, one of the boys. He stepped around the corner of the wagon to find Bunjiro, now dressed in his acrobat costume, searching the area. "Kenshin-san?" the boy called out. "Where are you?" When he saw Kenshin, he came running, but he tripped on a protruding tree root just as got close. He put out his arms to brace his fall but ended up slamming his hand into Kenshin's injured shoulder instead. Kenshin easily caught him and steadied him, but not before he had involuntarily let out a hiss of pain.

"Oh, no, Kenshin-san, I've hurt you!" Bunjiro apologized as he regained his balance. "Are you okay? Grandmother sent me out to see if anything was wrong."

Kenshin forced the vacant smile on his face. "No, no, sessha is fine," he assured the boy, though he had a feeling he wasn't, "just surprised. Is it time to do this one's make-up?"

Bunjiro wasn't listening, however; he was staring at Kenshin's shoulder. Kenshin followed his eyes and saw a small spot of blood appear on his gi. As he suspected, the force of Bunjiro's hand had opened his wound.

"Oh, Kenshin-san, I'm so sorry, so sorry," Bunjiro began to babble. "Grandmother will kill me when she finds out…."

Kenshin took the boy by the shoulders and said reassuringly, "It's fine, Bunjiro-san, nothing to worry about. Sessha has endured much worse. If you could just tell your grandmother that sessha will be a few minutes—she wouldn't be too happy if this one got blood on one of her costumes."

Bunjiro managed a small smile, then said, "Hai," and ran off.

Kenshin, meanwhile, peeked under his gi and was relieved to see that the wound was only leaking, not gushing. He hadn't thought to bring any extra bandages with him when he left the inn this morning, although he had slipped a little box of healing ointment into his sleeve pocket just in case. If he was lucky, that would be enough to stop the bleeding quickly, before too much of the bandage became unusable. So he slipped into the wagon and pulled his gi down off his shoulders. As he began to unwrap the cloth holding the bandage, he heard the wind pick up outside and felt a chill creep into the air. Even here in warm Miyazaki, winter was obviously not far off. He'd definitely need to buy that warm haori sooner rather than later, he thought absently.

With the wound now exposed, he could see that it was only luck that had prevented more blood from reaching the bandage. The original wound from the shuriken had been fairly minor, but the cut Baiko had made with his sword to get rid of the poison had made the wound somewhat deep. He cursed softly under his breath, then grabbed a handful of the cloth and pressed it hard against his shoulder. He didn't want to call any more attention to himself than was absolutely necessary, but if the wound didn't stop bleeding pretty quickly, that's exactly what would happen. He kicked himself for not bringing a packet of styptic powder with him, but then who would have thought something like this would happen?

He was just removing the cloth to check the progress of the clotting when Ikuko climbed into the wagon. He moved to cover the wound again, but she stopped him so she could take a look. "Tsk, tsk," she muttered. "I swear, that boy…. "

"It wasn't Bunjiro-san's fault, Ikuko-dono—he tripped and fell, that's all." He placed the cloth back over the wound. "Sessha's fine, really."

Ikuko started rooting around in some of the boxes and returned holding two large pieces of cloth. "Dish towels," she said as she started tearing one into strips. "They're clean, we can replace them, they'll make suitable bandages, don't you think? Now, you just let go of that and let me take care of things, hmm?"

Kenshin couldn't help but smile as he gave himself over to Ikuko's care. She was all business as she poured some water into a bowl, dipped the end of one of the towels into the water, and started cleaning around the wound. "Seems like I was doing this just yesterday," she said with a smirk.

Kenshin looked at her in mild surprise. It hadn't occurred to him that she might have been the one who bandaged him up originally. Somehow he had just assumed it was Baiko. "Surprised?" she chuckled. "When you're the mother of three scrappy boys and the grandmother of four more, you get pretty proficient at this kind of thing."

In no time, Kenshin's wound was clean and already forming a new scab. He handed her the little box of ointment and let her smear it on. Amazing how much gentler she was at dealing with wounds than the rough army doctors he was used to.

"There," she said with satisfaction. "All done. Now, you sit here and rest awhile. I've got to finish altering that costume for Bunjiro-chan. Third Son has worked him into his little entre'acte so Bunjiro-chan push the wheelchair for him. I'll be back to do your make-up as soon as I'm done."

"You mean sessha doesn't have to… won't be going backstage for that?" Kenshin asked as she turned to leave. That meant he wouldn't have to stare at those heads while she was painting his face, thank goodness!

She patted him gently on the back. "No, we'll do it here," she replied. "I knew you'd be uncomfortable with so many people milling about." Then she left.

How did she know, Kenshin wondered? No doubt about it, he was going to miss her.

He took his gi off now and dipped the bloody spot in the bowl of water to wash it off. As he scrubbed, he idly looked around the wagon and spied, in the corner, the writing box he had seen Orinosuke use earlier that morning. He thought quickly—Ikuko would be sewing, everyone else was involved with preparations for the performance. This was the perfect opportunity to write that letter he would need to deliver to the Satsuma guard who was seeking revenge against him. He hastily blotted the water from his gi and put it back on, then opened the box, took a few drops of the water to wet the inkstone and brush, then pulled a small sheet of paper from the little drawer at the bottom of the box. He knew he didn't have much time, so he wrote quickly.

"To the samurai Ozawa," the letter began. "I am the man you seek, who took the life of your brother at Kinmon no Hen. He died honorably in defense of our emperor. I took no pleasure in taking your brother's life. My commander ordered and I obeyed, as is required in war. Know that this one has since taken an oath never to kill again and lives now only to atone for the lives lost to his blade. If, knowing this, you still desire to avenge your brother's death, you will find me at midnight at the end of the path leading from the Miyazaki Jingu shrine to the cliffs. From the one formerly known as the Hitokiri Battousai."

He shuddered as he wrote that name. If only it could disappear into the dust, like the bones of all those he had killed.

Suddenly he heard the sound of footsteps; it was Ikuko. There was no time to hide what he was doing, so he quickly blew on the ink to dry it and hurriedly started folding up the letter as she entered the wagon. At her look of surprise, he said lamely, "Um, sessha was just writing some reminders for the play." He fumbled for his coin purse and added, "Sessha will pay for the cost of the paper."

She gave him an odd look, then said, "Why, that's quite conscientious of you, to think of writing yourself some notes." She pushed away the coin he now held out to her. "And no need for that. I didn't realize you took your acting duties so seriously."

Kenshin quickly put on as innocent a smile as he could muster while surreptitiously sliding the letter into his sleeve pocket. Then he watched uncomfortably as Ikuko gathered the charcoal stick, the white cream, the red lip paint, and the brushes she needed for his makeup. Although she may not have realized, he knew that she was glancing back at him surreptitiously as she did so. He had learned early on that she had a knack for guessing what was going on in his mind—it wasn't his ki, he knew, because he was always careful to mask it in her presence—and he hoped she couldn't sense his guilt now. He was relieved, therefore, when she finally said, "Husband will be so impressed when he hears you've made notes for yourself."

It was time now for the face painting. Kenshin had only gone through this once before, and although he knew what to expect, he still instinctively jerked back as Ikuko's hand neared his face. "Now, Himura-san, remember from last time—it's just my fingers, not a sword," she said. He willed himself to stay still as she started smearing the cold goo over his face and eyelids.

"You know," she continued conversationally in an attempt to put him at ease, "you may want to write some more things down on that list of yours. There are some other things you'll need to do today after your play, like sign autographs."

Autographs? Kenshin's eyes went wide, and suddenly Ikuko remembered he had never been to a kabuki theater before.

"Oh, my, no one thought to tell you. Well! Outside the theater there will be stalls selling delicacies and souvenirs and all sorts of whatnots, just like at a festival, and one of those stalls will be selling souvenir fans with pictures of Husband and my sons. After each play, there's always a crowd waiting for them to come out and autograph their fans. Your picture won't be on the fans, of course, but people may still want your autograph. 'Shinosuke the First' you'll write—the stage name Husband created for you. Fans with your signature will be real collector's items someday! So, after your play is done, you're to go out to the fan stall and sign autographs."

If she hadn't been holding Kenshin's head in a vice-like grip, he probably would have stood up to say goodbye right then and there. How was he going to be able to leave right after his performance if he was required to do this? Not only that, how could he be sure the heavy white make-up would hide the distinctive scar on his cheek from people seeing him up close? He kicked himself for refusing to look at himself in a mirror with makeup. "Please, Ikuko-dono, sessha can't do that," he tried to say, but it came out sounding like "Pthh eeeeeedooooooo seshhh cnnn dooooooo thh."

"Oh, don't worry about a thing, Himura-san," Ikuko laughed as she guessed at what he was trying to say. "I'll have Byako-chan go with you. He can hold your hand in case someone tries to propose marriage to you again."

Ikuko still had his head in her grip, but he managed to splutter, "That's not what I said…." He shook his head free just as her last little remark sank in. "Wait a minute, what was sessha supposed to do when that farmer proposed? You told me never to break the illusion!"

Ikuko roared with laughter. "Oh, Himura-san, you _are_ funny! Yes, you're not supposed to break the illusion, but heavens, what would you have done if someone tried to pinch your cheek, or even worse, somewhere else?" She laughed even harder at the mental picture that brought up. She put down the white cream now and took up the charcoal stick and brush. "Let's put it this way—never break the illusion unless you have no other choice. For instance, there was the time, when Second Son was our onnagata for the day, that a drunken patron tried to get fresh with him. Second Son just smiled sweetly, then shoved his fan right up where it hurts a man the most. Then he walked away as calmly as if nothing had happened. Get the idea?"

Kenshin certainly did, and if he hadn't had the white make-up on, Ikuko would have noticed that his face was now about as red as his hair. He had no idea being an onnagata could be such a dangerous occupation! Regardless, though, he had to find some way of getting out of this obligation. Ikuko sensed his unease and assumed it had to do with the perils of being an onnagata, so she said, "I don't think you'll have to worry too much about that kind of thing today. What with that rumor going around about a terrible hitokiri being in town, Shimazu-sama's people are insisting on posting several of their samurai outside the theater doors, so I think everyone will probably be on their very best behavior."

Kenshin went rigid.

"You _have_ heard about that rumor, haven't you?" she added as she took in his reaction. She had just picked up the brush for the red paint, but she stopped before it touched his lips. It seemed that under the white make-up, all color had just drained from his face. She put her arm down and said, "Frankly, I wouldn't worry about that rumor, if I were you. They claim it's the same hitokiri who terrorized Kyoto during the Bakumatsu way back when we still lived there, the one they called the Battousai." She shivered involuntarily. "I don't mind admitting that those were terrifying days. That hitokiri? People claimed he could appear out of nowhere, then disappear into nowhere just as fast. It did make you afraid to walk the streets."

She shook the memories from her head, not noticing Kenshin's tense eyes and clenched fists. He knew his actions had scared the populace of Kyoto, but to hear that fear voiced by Ikuko was almost unbearable.

"Anyway," she said as she dipped the brush into the paint, "that was a long time ago and the war is over, so if you ask me, the rumor doesn't make much sense. Husband agrees—he says it's all a lot of hooey. First Son, of course, says the rumor's true and that the hitokiri is in our midst even now, but then he always thinks the worst of everything. I guess, though, that Shimazu-sama can't afford to take any chances."

Now she started painting Kenshin's lips, preventing him from saying anything even if he wanted to, which he most certainly didn't.

"So why here and why now?" she mused, talking for the both of them. "That Battousai may have been a hitokiri, but at least he was _our_ hitokiri—I mean a hitokiri for the patriots—so he'd certainly have no reason to want to kill Shimazu-sama now. Why, the new government respects Shimazu-sama so much that he was one of the first daimyo in all Japan to be made governor of his own domain! So many of the others have been stripped of their lands and forced to move to Tokyo, you know. In fact, the reason he's dragged us and his whole extended family all the way to Miyazaki is to show the government and the emperor how appreciative he is. You'd think that lovely Shinto shrine in Kagoshima would do, but oh, no, it had to be this dinky little shrine in Miyazaki just because it was supposedly built by the first emperor himself a thousand years ago. So it couldn't be that the government's trying to kill him."

She stepped back now to admire her handiwork and at last noticed that the gentle violet eyes she was used to seeing were hard and tense. "You don't think First Son is right, do you? It just wouldn't do to have a killing happen during one of our performances…."

Kenshin lowered his eyes and willed his body to relax. "The era of the hitokiri is over," he finally said as calmly as he could, though even to him his voice sounded strained. "Shimazu-sama has nothing to worry about."

He could see her relax at his statement. "I'm glad you think so," she said with some relief as she placed the wig on his head and tightened it. "You're an experienced swordsman, after all. I knew you'd understand about these things." She reached now for his costume, which lay folded on a bench behind him.

"AAAAH!" she suddenly shouted.

Kenshin instinctively grabbed for his sakabatou and whirled around to protect Ikuko from whatever was threatening her, but he stopped in mid-draw as he stared at the cause of her alarm. His opponent was a toad peeking out from the folds of the costume's sleeve. The toad took one look at Kenshin and Ikuko and hopped away as fast as it could. Ikuko growled, "Ooooh, that Second Son—this is his doing, I know it! Wait 'till I get my hands on him…!"

Kenshin's anxiety was gone in an instant, and he found himself laughing. Ryosuke had done it again, had managed to disarm the tension within him. Through his laughter, he said, "No, Ikuko-dono, a practical joke is called for here, don't you think?"

An impish smile came across Ikuko's face. "What did you have in mind, Himura-san? Something dastardly, I hope."

Kenshin thought for a moment, then said, "Are they done dressing yet for the first play?"

Ikuko looked out towards the back door of the theater. She could just hear the men starting their vocal warm-ups. "No, probably not. They'll finish their voice exercises first. Why?"

Kenshin joined her at the wagon opening and scanned the area. Yes, there it was—an old, gnarled rosebush he remembered seeing as he walked back at lunchtime. "Ikuko-dono, if you could just manage to find a thorn or two from that old rosebush over there and work it into the underside of Ryosuke-san's wig…."

"Oh, Himura-san, you _are_ devilish, aren't you! A brilliant idea!" She quickly helped him dress, tied his obi, then left to do the dirty work. Not fifteen minutes later, a howl of pain emanated from the back of the theater, then, "Himura-san! Where are you, you dirty bastard!" An eruption of laughter followed from the rest of the men. Yup, Kenshin thought in satisfaction as he descended from the wagon, Ryosuke will be in just the right mood now to do a comedy.

It was time now to join the others backstage, so he started walking slowly and carefully across the yard towards the theater. He still wasn't completely comfortable in the high geta he had to wear, and he was mindful that there was a tree root out there waiting to trip him, as it had Bunjiro. So, it was with great relief that he reached the theater door without incident. After his experience wearing these god-forsaken things, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind about the superiority of zori over geta where a swordsman was concerned!

The backstage room was still bustling and crowded, so he headed for the nearest free bench to sit and wait. The men, he noted, were all in costume now, but still there were many men's costumes hanging on the makeshift clothesline. Six of them looked like priests' robes and hats; six looked like soldiers' gi. There were crests on the gi, but whose he could not tell. He knew that Daisuke and Ryosuke had to change costumes between his own play and _Kanjincho_; maybe they, and perhaps Orinosuke as well, had further changes to make for the act he had never seen. But twelve clothing changes?

Then it dawned on him. Twelve costumes—twelve extras. Those must be for the twelve men drawn from the governor's ceremonial guard. He knew, of course, that they would be here, but he hadn't really given much thought to _where_ they'd be. Of course they'd be backstage, you idiot, he thought to himself, and here he was weaponless and exposed for all to see. But what would they see? He had no idea, for he had assiduously avoided all mirrors after that first quick glimpse of himself in the wig. He berated himself once again for not looking, for how else would he know if he was unrecognizable or not?

Noriko came and sat in the empty space next to him and began to tune her shamisen. Kenshin nodded to her, being careful not to dip his head too far for fear of losing his wig. Noriko smiled and nodded back, saying, "You look quite realistic, Himura-sama. Mother-in-law did an excellent job."

Himura-sama? Oh, no, not again. Noriko had started calling him that after the fight with the yakuza, and it made him uncomfortable. "Please, just plain Himura-san," he said softly.

She bowed her head and said, "As you wish." She picked out a few notes on her instrument, then said, "Are you more comfortable now with being an onnagata? It must be difficult when you're not born to it."

Kenshin smiled. "Sessha hasn't had the courage to see himself yet."

Noriko laughed quietly. "Mother-in-law mentioned something about that. Well, would you like to see yourself now?"

She walked behind the portable screen that held her dancing costume and returned with a large hand mirror. Kenshin closed his eyes tight, put the mirror before his face, then opened his eyes. What he saw was a stranger—a stranger with his eyes, but a stranger nonetheless. He got the same sense of unreality that he had the first time, but this time he forced himself to keep looking, for there was one aspect of the face in the mirror that worried him. He looked now at his left cheek. It was as he feared—despite the heavy white cream, he could still make out the edges of his distinctive scar. Still, one had to look very closely to notice. "It doesn't look like me at all, does it," he said finally.

Noriko smiled and said gently, "No Himura-san, it doesn't look like you at all. I hope you're not embarrassed…."

"Oh, no—not embarrassed!" Kenshin said quickly. "Well, except when that farmer thought I really was a woman," he added as an afterthought.

Noriko laughed again and plucked a few more notes on her shamisen. "I know what you mean. Husband's been proposed to many times. It's rather funny, really." She stood now and said, "Well, it's time for me to go. Good luck, Himura-san. I know that whatever you do onstage, it will be a credit to our family, and for that we are all most grateful." Then she bowed and took her leave.

Kenshin watched her join the other women going up the steps to the stage. Noriko had been the first to make him feel at home with this family, and for that he would be forever grateful. Ennosuke, he thought to himself, was a lucky man to have her.

Now there was nothing to do but sit and wait, and he began to ponder the problem of when and how he could disappear. Leaving right after his performance was no longer an option. Perhaps once the big drama started? He certainly couldn't wait much longer than that. His thoughts, however, were soon interrupted by music; the women had started to play, and the audience, he guessed, were probably coming in to seat themselves. He found the music relaxing, so he closed his eyes briefly to center himself for the play.

Seconds later, however, his eyes flew open as he sensed the approach of swordsmen's ki. He quickly looked towards the back door just in time to see twelve of the governor's ceremonial guards enter the room. He instinctively stood up and reached for the hilt of his absent sakabatou, but caught himself just in time to turn the movement into a deep bow. That's when he realized that none of them had even noticed him. Of course, he thought; he was a woman now, beneath the regard of these men. Still, when he sat back down, it was at the farthest end of the bench, and he redoubled his efforts at masking his ki.

Daisuke and Orinosuke met the guards at the door and started giving out instructions. This gave Kenshin the opportunity to discreetly look them over. It took only a moment to assure himself that none of these men had been present at that meeting three years ago between Shimazu's representative and Katsura, for whom Kenshin had acted as bodyguard. At least that was one stroke of good luck, he thought. On the other hand, he noted that every one of these men had the bearing and ki of a top swordsman. These men would not be easy to fool. He wondered which was the one seeking him out for revenge. It was impossible to tell. Daisuke now started gesticulating towards the costumes and then the door, and Kenshin heard him say something about coming backstage after the first play. Then the guards left.

Not all of them went very far. A group of them stopped outside the building to talk, just close enough to where Kenshin was sitting that he could hear them through the wall. He listened as they jabbered on about their exploits in the pleasure quarters the night before and about being stuck with sentry duty later and other mundane soldiers' chatter. It was all so unremarkable that he slowly let himself relax just a bit. Then he heard a remark about the strange woman sitting in the backstage room. He suddenly perked up his ears again.

"You didn't notice her?" he could hear one of the guards saying. "Pretty little thing, but she's got no ki. Doesn't that strike you as strange?"

He heard some pushing and shoving and laughing. "Yukio-kun, don't you know that women don't have a ki? They just float along waiting for us to come and fulfill them!"

More laughter. Then the first man said, "If you were married, you wouldn't say that. And anyway, there's something else not quite right about her, too. I just can't put my finger on it. "

Another hoot. "What, that she didn't fall all over you the moment you walked in? That's because she's not a real woman, you idiot—that's their onnagata!" Gales of laughter followed this statement.

"You sure? He looks awfully delicate for a guy, but that would explain a lot."

"You better watch what you say, Yukio-kun," said another voice in mock seriousness. "After all, these are the actors who supposedly took out that whole gang of samurai and ninja bandits!"

More laughter. "Maybe he did it with his fan!" laughed yet another voice.

"I still say it's not normal for there to be no ki," the one named Yukio insisted, "and it's giving me the creeps."

Kenshin thankfully heard them walk away now. "Well," he heard a voice laugh, "maybe he's trying to hide himself from the Hitokiri Battousai!"

"Shush, Haru-kun—if they hear you mention that rumor, you'll get us all in trouble!" Then the voices were gone.

Pretty little thing? Awfully delicate? Kenshin didn't know whether to be insulted or relieved. Perhaps the latter. After all, no one looking for the Hitokiri Battousai would suspect a pretty and delicate-looking woman. He briefly gave thought to staying in costume when he left, but then discarded the notion. Not only would he not be able to carry his sakabatou unobtrusively, but he would never forgive himself for what would, in effect, be stealing the costume. No, he would have to be satisfied with the amount of camouflage the costume afforded him while he was at the theater. After that, he would just have to rely on his wits, as always.

He watched now as the four boys, who had been practicing their juggling, headed for the stage door. It was time for their performance; his own play would be starting right after. In fact, Ryosuke was walking over to him right now, probably to tell him that, so Kenshin quickly made a decision—he would fulfill the obligation to sign autographs, then immediately get out of costume, pick up his travel bag at the inn, and disappear. He'd need to drop off his letter for the guard Ozawa, of course, then find a place to hide himself until midnight, but that wouldn't be too difficult, he figured. He stood now as Ryosuke reached him. "Time to go?" he asked as if nothing more were on his mind.

Kenshin noticed an evil gleam in Ryosuke's eye. "Not quite, Himura-san. I just wanted you to know that I _will_ be paying you back for that practical joke once we're on stage."

So, Ryosuke was gearing up to tease him, was he? Kenshin smiled. It appeared that despite everything, despite his past coming up to haunt him yet again, at least he would get one thing he wished for—he would certainly be enjoying this performance. Minutes later, Daisuke came forward and swept them both before him towards the stage door. The boys were in the midst of their act, and it was time to wait in the wings.

Only Orinosuke and Ennosuke were left in the room now, along with Ennosuke's daughter Nomi, who was enjoying a horsey ride on her father's good knee. Orinosuke strode over and removed her, then leaned over to his brother's ear and said, "You realize it's time someone else took over leadership of this family."

Ennosuke lifted Nomi back onto his knee and sighed, "Not this again. Just let it drop. Father's given you permission to leave. Isn't that enough?"

Orinosuke once again removed Nomi from Ennosuke's knee and curtly said, "Go play somewhere else." Then, turning back to his brother, he said, "It's not just his decision not to return to Kyoto, though you'd think you'd care enough about your own career to see what a bad decision that is. And it's not just his decision to drag us on this God-forsaken trip, though if he had at least used a wagon made for Satsuma roads, you wouldn't be sitting here with that cast on your leg. But his decision to take on that so-called rurouni? The man's a killer, I tell you, and that decision has put all our lives in danger—the worst in a long string of bad decisions."

Ennosuke grabbed his crutches and stood now to face his brother. "That man, as you call him, saved my life, or have you forgotten?" he said angrily. "And you may fancy yourself an accomplished swordsman, but even you could not have defeated those ninjas yesterday. No, I think Father's doing just fine, and I support every decision he's made—even the one to stay in Kagoshima."

He started walking over to where Nomi was sitting on the floor, looking for all the world like she was about to burst into tears, but Orinosuke grabbed his shoulder to stop him. "And what if I prove I'm right? What if I prove the rurouni's not just any killer, but the most infamous and dangerous killer in all of Japan?"

Ennosuke turned to look at his brother. "You do that. You go prove that. Then I'll think about it." He shook his shoulder loose and went to comfort his daughter.

"Tonight," Orinosuke called after him. "I'll have all the proof you want tonight. Support me then and we'll finally get the kind of leadership this family deserves!"

Ennosuke didn't even bother answering. Orinosuke glared after him, then disgustedly headed for the stage wings himself, for it was his job to announce the beginning of Kenshin's play.

Japanese Terms:

Onnagata: in kabuki, a male actor who plays a woman.  
Yakuza: criminal gang.  
Shimazu-sama: Lord Shimazu, formerly the daimyo (feudal lord) of Satsuma, now the governor under the new government.  
Hashi: Japanese word for chopsticks.  
Sengoku: the period of continuous warfare in the 1500s that preceded the Tokugawa Shogunate.  
Shuriken: star-shaped weapon favored by ninjas, often tipped with poison.  
Haori: warm overcoat.  
Kinmon no Hen: the ill-fated Chousu attack on the Imperial Palace in July 1864.  
Geta: wooden sandals.  
Bakumatsu: Japanese civil war.  
Daimyo: feudal lord. The rank was abolished by the new government and replaced with governors.  
Zori: the flexible Japanese sandal.  
Shamisen: a traditional Japanese stringed instrument.

**Author's Note:** As many of you know, I managed to break my hand right before Thanksgiving and was unable to use a keyboard until just before Christmas, hence the long delay. Actually, it's all Kenshin's fault. Turns out he has been enjoying himself too much with the Daisuke family and just didn't want to leave. How else to explain the rash of hand-related injuries that have occurred while writing this story (remember the bee sting to the finger I got while writing chapter 9?)!

So, would Kenshin really try to justify a killing in his letter to Ozawa by saying he did what he was ordered? I figure he's heard the stories that the Hitokiri Battousai lived for blood and loved to kill, and he would want to set the record straight. Maybe, maybe not, but since it's my story, I get to decide! Next chapter: The end. Yes, it will definitely be the final chapter. Kenshin will endure the many hardships of being an onnagata, not to mention Ryosuke's shenanigans, but will he manage to disappear before Orinosuke finds his proof?

Thanks to all our reviewers for your wonderful comments and suggestions. Even after this many chapters and this many stories, I still hold my breath every time I see that Reviewer Alert in my inbox. I write for you, so the least I can do is let the world see all your names: Calger 459, Haku Baikou, Bishounen Hunter, BakaBokken, Hitokiri oro-chan, PraiseDivineMercy, Hitokiri of the Bloodless Moon, Maeve Riannon, beriath, koe 760, Shimizu Hitomi, Cattibrie393, Ayumi Ikari, Lucrecia Le Vrai, Audi Daudi, Miranda Crystal-Bearer, Wistful-Eyes, ESP, Arcueid, Corran Nackatori, Marissa Willems, Hitokiri-san.,Toilet Marauder, TawnyBaka, AmunRa, MisaoShiru, November Dusk, zig-zag, Cetsunai, dark sapphire, Steffel, Baru-chan, iceblazingpheonix, wyrd, curiosicat, sasha, Ayashi1, LadyBattousai456, Neko Oni-chan, laial, audra no baka, tatk1, lilmatchgirl007, De Lazy Lime, Melissa, daniel-gudman, Kaloo, Terry McElrath, Methodic Madness, Darkening Dreams, anime kirei, chibi rurouni, Romm, Darkening Dreams, Silenced Doves, Mara Roberts, lotus-chan, Tazzy, KQL Moony, Sasha, Lady Adania Ebonsong, tomboy101, louiseoblique, Maldoror1, moeru himura, Silver Warrior, Ligar Zero X, lolo popki, nightcrawler, Night-Owl 123, Hitokiri Battousai214, and Amant de Mort. Wow, I just realized—several of you are wonderful authors yourselves. Way to go!

**Co-Conspirator's Note:** It only took Co-C. two weeks but she's finally given her go-ahead (yes, this chapter has been ready for _two weeks_!). Thank you, Rabid Conspirator Update Society, for helping me get her moving on this! Unfortunately, she didn't have the time to write a note—too much homework. She does have time, however, to say, "FanFic's quick edit is repulsive!" She'll be back next time, I hope!


	11. chapter 11

It's time for the big performance. Ryosuke wants Kenshin to join the acting troupe, Orinosuke is on the verge of confirming Kenshin's true identity, and all Kenshin wants to do is leave before it's too late. It's going to be a rough afternoon.

Me, copyright holder? Only in my dreams. That honor goes to our hero, Watsuki Nobuhiro, and all those companies with enough vision to publish and animate his wonderful tale.

Once again, here's my handy-dandy list of who's who in the family:

Daisuke: also called Father, Father-in-Law.  
Orinosuke: also called First Son, First Brother.  
Ryosuke: also called Second Son, Second Brother.  
Ennosuke: also called Youngest Son, Youngest Brother.  
Ikuko: Daisuke's wife.  
Mayako: Orinosuke's wife.  
Mei: Ryosuke's wife.  
Noriko: Ennosuke's wife.  
Bunjiro, Byako: Orinosuke's sons.  
Saburo, Oda: Ryosuke's sons.  
Nomi: Ennosuke's daughter.

**An Unexpected Lesson**

**By**

**Conspirator**

**Chapter 11**

_Demons Out, Fortune In_ was a simple play. It's Setsubun time, the time when homeowners seek to cast evil out of their homes and bring in good fortune. A widow prepares the talismen for warding off demons—a sardine head on a holly branch and roasted soybeans—and asks an exorcist to remove all evil from her home. Then a demon disguised as a traveler appears and convinces her to let him in by making beautiful kimono for her with his magic mallet. She becomes greedy, gets the demon drunk, and tries to steal the magic mallet. When she tries to remove the demon's own kimono, she realizes what he is and pelts him with the roasted soybeans, thus driving him out. It was really from the comic kyogen tradition, not from kabuki, but it had become a staple of the Daisuke family's repertoire for generations because of its broad slapstick appeal.

Kenshin listened as Orinosuke announced the play and its performers to the audience, and as with the last time, he joined Daisuke and Ryosuke in closing his eyes to prepare himself mentally. Last time, he had prayed merely that he survive the ordeal of appearing on stage. This time, he prayed that he survive whatever Ryosuke might throw at him. He knew from experience now that Ryosuke would try ad-libbing just to keep him on his toes (and, he suspected, to help keep him from worrying about the audience), but Ryosuke's promise to repay Kenshin for the practical joke earlier that afternoon suggested that he was in for more than just ad-libbing. He quickly ran through the highlights of the play's action. There really wasn't much to it—how much mayhem could Ryosuke really do? He opened his eyes as he reached his conclusion: plenty.

So it was with a wary eye and all his sharpened senses on alert that Kenshin started the long walk down the ramp to begin the play. Well, the ramp didn't give way—so far so good. He continued walking to the far end of the stage, where he was to light an altar candle with a match. He heard Daisuke, as the wandering exorcist, begin to tell the audience what was happening. On cue, Kenshin squatted down to pick up one of the long matches, but when he tried to light it, it wouldn't take. He reached for the second, and as he did, he realized that someone (and he knew exactly who) had soaked them both in water so they wouldn't ignite. There was only one match left, and he had to get this candle lit. He was still wearing his gi under his costume, and he was beginning to think he might have to reach into his sleeve pocket for a flint, but the third match seemed to be dry, so he gave it a try. As soon as he put it into the lantern, it burst into a huge flame, sending Kenshin reeling backwards onto his rear. There was, he noticed as he fell, the distinct smell of burning sake in the air. Someone (and he knew exactly who) had tampered with this match. The audience laughed.

The next action was to take the sardine head on the holly branch and place it outside the doorway of the little house, thus setting up the meeting with Daisuike, the exorcist. No problem there, although Kenshin cringed slightly when Daisuke ad-libbed something about this widow being in particular need of some good luck. Then Daisuke handed Kenshin the box of roasted soybeans and added, "Absolutely no demons in _these _beans." Kenshin breathed a sigh of relief. All he needed at the end of the show was to find something outrageous in the roasted beans!

After a bit more stage business, it was time for Ryosuke as the demon to make his appearance, and at the knock at the door that signaled his entrance, Kenshin immediately steeled himself for the worst. He went to the door and screamed as he should when he saw the demon, but all the while he was casting out his senses trying to figure out if Ryosuke had something more up his sleeve. Surprisingly, Ryosuke did nothing unusual as he produced the kimono that convinces the widow to let him in the house. Kenshin briefly entertained the idea that maybe the little joke with the matches was all Ryosuke would attempt, but a sixth sense told him not to count on it.

Now it was time for the demon to produce three kimono from his magic mallet. The first one was supposed to be very plain, as Daisuke explained in his narration, but when Ryosuke produced the kimono from the magic mallet, everyone could see that it was a kimono fit for an empress—deep blue with intricately embroidered silver and red dragons and birds. Kenshin, as the play required, had to act as if it were nothing but a rag. The audience tittered. Ryosuke then produced the second kimono, which Daisuke, of course, described as being more beautiful than the first, but although it was a lovely light green with beautiful cherry blossoms embroidered on it, it was clearly no match for the first. Kenshin, of course, had to act as if this surpassed the first kimono. The audience was catching on to the joke. Now, as Daisuke narrated, Ryosuke's demon was to produce the most beautiful kimono of all. Daisuke could barely contain himself for he, like the audience, knew what would happen next. The third kimono was as plain as plain could be, and Kenshin, of course, was required to act as if it were the most beautiful kimono in the world. The audience roared with laughter. Ryosuke looked so self-satisfied at Kenshin's discomfort that Kenshin was tempted to take his fan and stick it where Ikuko had suggested in her tips to ward off unruly admirers.

Next, Kenshin's widow was to offer the demon sake in the hopes of getting him drunk. Maybe it was Kenshin's senses that warned him or maybe it was having lived so long with a prankster like Hiko, but somehow he knew that danger lay ahead. Sure enough, after setting out the cups and turning around to get the sake bottle, he heard a chuckle come up from the audience. From the corner of his eye he saw Ryosuke mugging to the audience and placing something in Kenshin's cup. Kenshin didn't even have to look—he knew it would be wasabi powder. Sure enough, when he went to drink from his cup, there was a burn hot enough to light up a city. He'd be damned if he'd give Ryosuke the satisfaction of a reaction, so he forced himself to act as if nothing had happened. At Ryosuke's surprised look, Kenshin merely smiled and bowed politely, as any woman would do to a guest.

Now Ryosuke was supposed to turn around to grab a second bottle of sake, and as he did, Kenshin quickly switched cups, then watched with supreme satisfaction as Ryosuke took a huge sip and gagged. The audience was practically in tears. And so the play spun out to its end, with Kenshin giving as good as he got, and the climactic bean fight having all the passion and energy of an extremely enthusiastic food fight. As the demon withdrew in a final hail of beans, the audience was shouting and applauding wildly.

"By the gods, Second Son, you were in fine form this afternoon!" laughed Daisuke as Kenshin and Ryosuke regrouped behind the curtain before taking their bows.

"Why, thank you, Father!" a panting and smiling Ryosuke returned. He was still huffing from the exertion of the final scene. "I can't remember when I've enjoyed myself quite so much! Eh, Himura-san?" and he slapped Kenshin heartily on the back. "Pretty funny switching those sake cups!"

Kenshin just smiled as Daisuke and Ryosuke each took a hand and led him out with them to take their bows on the ramp Baiko had built. He was astonished to find the audience reaching and grabbing for them to shake their hands or touch their clothes, and he pulled back instictively. Ryosuke pushed him farther forward. "Just ignore them," he whispered loudly in Kenshin's ear as he basked in the adulation.

Daisuke, however, did stop for one patron, an obviously high-born samurai bearing a note with a seal. Unobtrusively, while bowing to the rest of the audience, Daisuke took the note and secreted it inside the front of his costume. Then he led Kenshin and Ryosuke back behind the curtain. Once there, he quickly read the note, held it aloft, and said, "The governorwants to meet us out back. I believe we're a hit! You, too, Himura-san," he added as he saw Kenshin trying to escape to the backstage room. "He'll expect to see you, too, you know."

Kenshin stopped in mid-step. Meet the governor? Shimazu Hisamitsu? The man had been one of the leading daimyo of the revolution, and as such was well aware of who and what the Hitokiri Battousai was. Despite the camouflage afforded by his costume and makeup, he was all too aware that if one looked long and hard enough, one could just make out the shape of an unusual scar on his left cheek. He had to get out of this. "Shouldn't sessha go sign autographs?" he finally managed to ask.

Ryosuke laughed and pounded him on the back again. "Himura-san, no one gives up an audience with a governor, especially the one who showers favors upon us! You've probably never met a daimyo before, but really, it's nothing to be afraid of."

Actually, Kenshin had met daimyo before, though the meetings were necessarily brief—they had all been brought about by little black envelopes. He pushed the thought from his mind and reluctantly allowed himself to be herded out to the courtyard behind the theater to await the arrival of the great man himself.

The yard behind the theater was quite large and was surrounded on all sides by a high wall, the better to discourage curious fans. The only way in was either through the door of the backstage room or through the one gate leading to the front courtyard. That gate now opened to reveal a large retinue of people. First came six ceremonial guards, who swept swiftly in and took up defensive posts along the three sides of the wall; Kenshin guessed it was protection prompted by the rumor of the Hitokiri Battousai. Next came two more ceremonial guards, who ushered in the governor's wife and her three ladies-in-waiting. Then came three more ceremonial guards surrounding the man who clearly was the governor, along with three of his retainers. Behind them were the twelve guards who were to be extras in the performance, and as soon as they entered, they immediately headed for the backstage door.

Kenshin stepped back behind Daisuke as the group flooded in, quickly scanning the faces of the guards for any he might recognize. He recognized none of the first group and none of the second group, but as the governor's own personal bodyguards filed in, he caught his breath—one of them had been at that meeting five years earlier at which Kenshin had acted as Katsura's bodyguard. For just an instant, Kenshin's ki flashed before he could bring it under control again, and the bodyguard sensed it. The man suddenly tensed and started searching the courtyard with his eyes for the source of the flare, but finding none, he returned to stare stony-faced at the group before him. Kenshin could tell, however, that the man was now on alert. There could be no more slip-ups. He only hoped that this man, unlike the guards he had overheard earlier, would not be bothered by his apparent lack of ki.

The governor came forward now and said, "Daisuke, my deepest appreciation to you and your family for undertaking this arduous trip on our behalf. My secretary has told me of the unfortunate accident that befell your son Ennosuke. It pains me that this misfortune occurred on our account."

Daisuke bowed very formally and said, "Please, there's no need to apologize. In fact, thanks to a gaijingadget called a wheelchair that a doctor has lent us, Ennosuke is well enough to perform one of his most celebrated pieces, _The Medicine Seller._"

"That is excellent to hear," Shimazu responded. "My wife, as you know, is the one who requested _Demons Out, Fortune In_. She specifically hoped to see Ennosuke in the role of the Widow, so she was very disappointed when she heard he would not be appearing. She does seem quite taken, however, with this Shinosuke who replaced him. Is he a grandson?"

Kenshin bowed low as Shimazu made his remarks, not so much out of necessity as out of an intense desire to avoid the man's close scrutiny, for now Shimazu was staring right at him.

"Ah, you enjoyed Shinosuke, did you?" laughed Daisuke. He reached back and pulled Kenshin forward. "An apprentice, Shimazu-sama, and a very talented one at that!"

Kenshin bowed some more, but Daisuke pulled him up. "That's enough," Daisuke whispered roughly in his ear. Kenshin plastered a vacant smile on his face instead.

There was a rustle of noise now from the women. "Oh, yes," Shimazu said. "My wife wishes to request your autographs on her fan."

Immediately, one of his retainers snapped his fingers, and a lady-in-waiting came forward with a souvenir fan. Then the governor's personal secretary produced a vial of ink, a brush, and a board on which to write. Daisuke immediately took the implements and began to sign the fan, as did Ryosuke. As they did, Kenshin discreetly backed up, bowed, and started heading for the backstage room, but Daisuke caught him and said, "Shinosuke, I'm sure they'd like your signature as well. Isn't that right, Shimazu-sama?"

"Oh, absolutely," Shimazu replied with an indulgent smile. His wife and her ladies-in-waiting all nodded in agreement.

Ryosuke handed the board over to Kenshin. He took the brush, but then hesitated. He hadn't thought to ask Ikuko what kanji to use for his stage name, although he did remember that it was supposed to be a combination of the last part of his own name and theirs. He glanced at Daisuke's and Ryosuke's signatures, then slowly began writing, painfully aware of how childish his signature looked compared to their flamboyant ones. Then he handed the board to Daisuke, who handed it to the lady-in-waiting.

With this piece of business accomplished, Shimazu turned to Daisuke and said, "Your presence today in Miyazaki confirms your allegiance to us and assures us that our confidence in you and your family is not misplaced. I know this trip has been a hardship, but our request for your presence is a sign of how important it has been to our political fortunes to have your theater in Kagoshima. Satsuma was in the forefront of western learning and technology longbefore the revolution, but until we could establish ourselves in the forefront of the traditional arts as well, no one up north paid us much attention. Your stature in the world of culture has helped establish Kagoshima as a cultural center in the eyes of the rest of Japan. For this, you have earned our undying gratitude. If there is any way we can show our appreciation, you have only to let us know."

"My Lord, why, I don't know what to say," Daisuke sputtered. It was rare to find him at a loss for words, but that's what he was.

The lady-in-waiting took advantage of his speechlessness to whisper something to the secretary, who spoke quietly to the governor. With a laugh, Shimazu said, "I am ordered to ask whether the incomparable Orinosuke might be available for a signature, as well as young Ennosuke himself."

"Of course!" Daisuke answered, his chest swelling with pride. Then, turning to Kenshin he said, "Go backstage and get them, would you? Then go out there and sign those autographs!"

Kenshin bowed and hurried away. Frankly, he couldn't get out of there fast enough. While all this had been going on, he could sense an intense unease in the bodyguard he had recognized, and while he was signing the fan, he could tell the man was staring at him. Clearly, the man had noticed his lack of ki and was trying to figure out why. Even as he walked through the backstage door, he could feel the man's eyes on his back. Of course, backstage now were the twelve ceremonial guards who were to be extras in the play, and immediately Kenshin felt the eyes of the one man who had noticed his lack of ki earlier that afternoon. He just couldn't win.

"Kenshin-san, Kenshin-san!" he heard someone shout.

It was Byako calling to him from the stage door. The boy was supposed to escort him out front and stay with him while he signed autographs. The stage door seemed like just the right place to be at the moment—far away from prying eyes. He quickly clacked his way over in his noisy high geta and went through to the stage wings, pulling Byako along with him as he did. How covenient, he thought—he was now safely out of sight. Even better, he could now ask Byako to find Orinosuke for him, for the last thing he wanted to do right now was to talk to someone as angry at him as Orinosuke seemed to be. So, he plastered a smile on his face and said, "The governor wishes the autographs of your father and Ennosuke-san. Could you find them and let them know?"

"The governor?" the boy repeated reverentially. "You mean Shimazu-sama himself? Wow!" and he ran off to find them.

Within a minute, Byako returned with his father, dressed as a twelfth-century samurai, and Ennosuke on crutches, dressed in the most ridiculous-looking merchant's outfit Kenshin had ever seen. Obviously, there were worse things than being an onnagata, Kenshin thought as he took in the sight! "He's supposed to be a shady medicine seller," Byako whispered at Kenshin's bemused look.

Kenshin and Byako now headed out the gate into the front courtyard. Unlike the bare and empty space of the morning, it was now packed with people and stalls and sights and smells that Kenshin, for one, hadn't experienced since perhaps Kyoto. It really was like a street festival, just as Ikuko had said, but still, Kenshin hadn't quite expected this many people. Instinct took over as he started scanning the crowds for any sign of danger until he felt Byako pulling on his sleeve and saying, "Come on!"

He allowed himself to be dragged forward into the crowds until they reached the souvenir fan stall near the theater entrance. The vendor, a wizened old man, bowed low to them as they approached, then quickly laid out two tatami mats, a small writing table, and a brush and ink. There was a throng of women milling about the stall apparently waiting for their arrival, but as Kenshin and Byako settled themselves down on the mats and the women got a good look at them, they started grumbling.

"This isn't Ennosuke-sama," a middle-aged matron started saying.

The other women started murmuring, "What, this isn't Ennosuke-sama?"

"We were expecting Ennosuke-sama," the middle-aged woman said to Byako, pointedly ignoring Kenshin entirely. "Why isn't he out here?"

Byako was taken aback. He was just a kid, what was she asking_ him_ for? "Well," he finally managed, "the announcer did say that Shinosuke the First was playing the role of the Widow. You must have heard it, and this is Shinosuke the First."

There was some more murmuring, then the woman said, "But the posters said Ennosuke-sama would be performing. We want Ennosuke-sama!"

"Well, Ennosuke-sama couldn't play the Widow today," Byako said in an exasperated voice. "Shinosuke the First is our newest actor, and anyway, soon he'll be as famous as Ennosuke-sama."

Kenshingaggedat that comment, but he kept his mouth shut.

"We don't care about that—we want that handsome Ennosuke-sama!" one of the other women demanded. "And if not him, then we want Ryosuke-sama and Daisuke-sama. Why aren't _they_ out here? This guy's a nobody."

The crowd started pushing forward as they all murmured their agreement. Kenshin had never found women to be inherently threatening before, but now he was beginning to change his mind. How did one defend oneself from a crowd of angry women, he wondered? It was definitely something Hiko had never taught him, that was for sure! "Perhaps we should leave," he whispered to Byako.

"Oh, no, we couldn't do that!" Byako whispered back. "Mother would kill me! We make a lot of money from this!" but he could see the crowd was getting ugly, so he decided on a different tactic. In as theatrical a voice as a nine-year-old could muster, he announced, "Ennosuke-sama was in a terrible accident a few days ago. Our wagon fell on him and broke his leg, and it was Shinosuke here who saved him. Why, if Shinosuke the First hadn't come along—I mean, if he hadn't been with us—then Ennosuke-sama would probably be dead right now!"

There was a stunned silence, then cries of "Oh, no, Ennosuke-sama! Did you say he was dead!"

"No, no, he's fine now!" Byako assured everyone quickly. "In fact, he'll be on stage right after intermission, so maybe you can get his autograph then, but meanwhile, why don't you get the signature of the man who saved him!"

He sat back down and gave Kenshin a satisfied grin. "If that doesn't bring these folks around," he whispered, "I don't know what will!"

Byako's little speech worked, for suddenly the woman who had complained the most bowed low to the ground and cried out, "Oh, Shinosuke-sama, please forgive what I said and sign my fan!"

The old vendor rushed forward to collect the fee for the autograph before she could change her mind, then handed the woman's fan to Kenshin. Suddenly, there were twenty women crowding around, all holding out their fans as well. The vendor pushed them back and croaked, "One at a time, please, one at a time!"

Byako chuckled as Kenshin started signing fan after fan. It looked like they'd take in a handsome amount of money for Kenshin's autograph after all; Byako was quite proud of himself. It took nearly ten minutes to satisfy the initial crowd, but they had little time to rest before more people wandered by asking for his autograph. The news, apparently, traveled fast.

In the midst of all this craziness came Baiko, wearing a seal around his neck identifying him as an official of the Daisuke family. He pushed his way through to Kenshin's side and said softly, "What the hell are you still doing here? I thought you were supposed to, you know, not be here…."

"Sessha knows," Kenshin said exasperatedly as he wrote on yet another fan, "but Ikuko-san ordered me to sign autographs. Sessha had no choice." He dared not say anything more with Byako sitting next to him.

"Yeah, well, come find me later," Baiko said. "I've got something important to tell you." Then he melted back into the crowds.

It took nearly fifteen more minutes before the flood of customers slowed to a trickle, then to nothing at all. Byako started getting restless, and Kenshin was itching to get back to the wagon to change and disappear. After several minutes of nothing to do, he turned to Byako and said, "Do you think maybe we could leave now? Sessha could sign some extra fans just in case someone comes later asking for one."

Byako's eyes lit up—he was getting very bored. "Hey, that's a great idea!" he enthused. "Ojiisan," he called out to the vendor, "what do you think?" In reply, the old man handed Kenshin a dozen fans.

Byako jumped up and stretched his legs, a huge smile on his face now that he didn't have to sit in one place. "Man, I don't know how you grown-ups manage to sit for so long! You want me to wait while you sign those fans and walk you back?"

"No, no, that's okay," Kenshin smiled. "Sessha needs to find Baiko anyway." That's all Byako needed to hear, and he quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Kenshin found Baiko at the far end of the courtyard near the stalls selling food and drink. The aroma of soba noodles and sweet buns mixed with the smell of tea and sake, making Kenshin feel hungry for a snack. It apparently had the same effect on Baiko, for when Kenshin caught up with him, he was just finished a sweet rice dumpling and was licking his fingers.

"Himura," he said in between licks, "good stuff here—you ought to try some!"

Kenshin pulled him away from the stall and said, "As soon as the show starts up again, sessha will go back to change. Then sessha will pick up his things at the inn and leave."

"Hang on," Baiko broke in. "That's what I wanted to tell you—there's been a slight complication. You know those samurai who saw you this morning while we were putting up the posters? Well, their story about seeing you-know-who is getting around pretty quickly. I don't think anybody in Miyazaki necessarily knew much about you—him!—before, but they sure do now, and I'm not sure it's safe for you to show up at the inn. Can you wait a half-hour or so before you take off? The old man asked me to run over to the inn during the show and bring our things back here. He wanted you and me to take the wagon straight over to the Soudai Theater after the show, and he wanted us to stay there overnight with it. I guess it'll just be me now, but still…. If you could just wait a bit, I could go to the inn as soon as intermission's over, and you wouldn't even have to show your face in town."

Kenshin thought for a moment. Even at his fastest, it might take nearly fifteen minutes to change and get all his makeup off. "Okay, sessha will wait."

"Good," Baiko said. "As soon as everyone's back in the theater, I'll take off." Then he gave Kenshin a quick clasp on the shoulders.

Some customers at one of the sake stalls happened to be watching as Baiko did so. To them it looked as if Baiko was hugging a pretty geisha, and they started laughing and pointing. Then, as Kenshin started walking back toward the theater, they started to follow him. It didn't take much skill to know they were following, for their drunken stench was all too obvious, and so Kenshin shouldn't have been surprised when one of them reached out to spin him into an awkward embrace, but he was. He was really beginning to understand now what Ryosuke had meant that first day when he said being an onnagata would make him appreciate what women went through. Men!

"Hey guys! An unattached geisha, and a pretty one at that!" the man slurred out in his drunkenness. "Maybe we could pay you to entertain us, eh?"

Kenshin flung his arms out to the side to break the man's hold, nearly sending himself tottering over on his high geta in the process. Then he waved his fan in front of his face, as women were taught to do when they're embarrassed, but the man started lunging tipsily for him again. Kenshin backed up several steps, rapped the man's arm hard with his closed fan, then sent it up under the man's jaw. The man yelped in pain, but Kenshin's move apparently just whetted the man's appetite more, for this time the man tried to grab Kenshin's shoulders to pull him in for a kiss. Kenshin backed up again. All he wanted to do was get back to the wagon—he was in no mood for this! So, in as deep a voice as he could manage, he growled out, "I am no geisha. I am Shinosuke the First, a member of this acting troupe."

"Ooh, it's one of the girlie men!" another of them said, and they started laughing until they saw Kenshin start walking away. "Hey, we're paying customers!" the first man shouted, and he tried to grab Kenshin's arm to pull him back, but Kenshin easily yanked his arm out of the man's grip.

"This one suggests you leave me alone," Kenshin said in a voice that would have sent chills up the spine of most men, but these men were too drunk to notice. Instead, another one started reaching for the neckline of Kenshin's kimono.

What was it Ikuko had told him to do if anyone gave him trouble? Deck them but be ladylike about it? In the blink of an eye, Kenshin grabbed the man's extended arm and flipped him over; the man landed on his back with a sickening thud. It all happened so fast that the others just stared dumbfounded at Kenshin, who quickly whipped out his fan and smiled in a demure, feminine way as if nothing had happened. That was too much for them. They suddenly backed away and ran, leaving their comrade on the ground moaning in pain. Now Baiko and one of the governor's ceremonial guards came running over to see what all the commotion was about. "He got fresh," Kenshin said to Baiko with a smirk, and with no more explanation than that, he once again headed for the gate that would lead him back to the wagon.

He couldn't get through the gate fast enough. Kenshin had never liked crowds, but today in particular it put his nerves on edge. He was better now at walking in high geta, but more than once he had found himself nearly losing his balance after being jostled. Then there was his constant worry over the wig. What if, in the crush of people, someone knocked into his wig by accident and caused it to fall off? With so many of Shimazu's ceremonial guards ringing the area, the last thing he wanted was for even one wisp of his red hair to be seen. So it was with a huge feeling of relief that he finally made it through the gate and closed it behind him. When he then heard the drum announcing the end of intermission, his relief was complete. Within minutes, the noise and chaos of the little mini-festival had disappeared.

Kenshin hurried across the rear courtyard now, anxious to change and be gone. Ryosuke's boys, Saburo and Oda, were playing a spirited game of hanetsuki just in front of the wagon, and he nodded to them, but as he went to climb in, Saburo called out, "Hey, you can't go in there!"

Kenshin stopped, foot in mid-air. "Why not?" he asked somewhat irritably. He couldn't wait to get out of the wig and kimono!

"Because Nomi-chan is in there napping."

"I am not!" came a cry from inside the wagon.

Saburo rolled his eyes and shouted, "Shut up, Nomi-chan!" Then, to Kenshin, he said, "Well, she's _supposed_ to be taking a nap, and Auntie says if she doesn't sleep, she has to at least rest until the end of Second Uncle's skit." He stuck out his tongue at the wagon, and called out, "So there!"

"But it's not fair!" Nomi challenged from within the wagon.

"Shut _up_, Nomi-chan!" Saburo and Oda cried out in unison.

Kenshin hesitated. He hadn't counted on the children being around when he made his getaway. It would be easy enough to concoct some kind of story to keep the boys in the dark about what he was planning to do, but he absolutely needed to retrieve his sakabatou and zori first. That meant dealing with a rambunctious three-year-old whose current favorite pastime was to cling to his leg or bowl him over with hugs. Clearly, that made retrieving the sakabatou and zori an impossibility right now, but from what the boys said, Nomi would not be resting much longer. He turned back from the wagon and sat on its step. He might as well wait it out, he figured. Anyway, hadn't he just promised Baiko he'd wait a half-hour?

With nothing else to do, he idly started watching the boys play hanetsuki. He chuckled despite himself as four-year-old Oda tried in vain to hit the cork ball and as Saburo became more and more annoyed with his brother. Time, however, weighed heavily upon him. He was edgy, anxious to be gone. Even closing his eyes to try to center himself didn't work, for every time he opened them, he was reminded that he was dressed like a woman. He was surprised at how helpless that made him feel, and he didn't like that feeling at all.

The boys eventually threw down their paddles and started playing tag, laughing as they landed on top of each other in a heap of arms and legs. It reminded Kenshin of those afternoons in the yard of the little house in Otsu, when the local children would come to play. He couldn't remember how it had come about, but somehow the children had managed to include him in their play. He remembered one particularly ironic day when the boys had convinced him to play the evil Shinsengumi captain to their heroic Ishin Shishi fighters. He came to look forward to their little visits, for in all his life he never remembered ever having playmates or even having time for such fun and games. It had made him even more determined to help bring about the new era of peace and justice, so that children like them—like Saburo and Oda now—would never have to endure what Kenshin had had to endure under the harsh Bakufu. And he had done it, he had helped topple that cruel regime. So why didn't he feel happier watching these boys play? Wasn't this what he had fought for, so that these boys could grow up without the fear of sudden and random death, without the grinding oppression of the old regime? Why, instead, did he feel so empty inside?

Slowly it came to him—he ached to stay with this family, not leave them. Why else had he come up with all those excuses for not leaving before lunch? There really was no earthly reason he had to stay. So what if he broke his promise to Daisuke to help out with today's performance? Would that really have been worse than having his presence discovered among them? No, he wanted to stay, to feel like he belonged somewhere. For that's what this family had done for him—it had made him feel like he belonged.

But it was more than that. All his life he had been surrounded by violence and death—his parents' death from cholera, the harshness of being a slave, the slaughter of the slavers' band, the Bakumatsu itself. Hiko had taught him the way of the sword, for which he would be forever grateful, but it was the only way of life he knew. It had led him, in his ignorance, to his fateful agreement to bring 'heaven's justice' to the enemies of the Ishin Shishi.

This family, however, was offering to teach him a different way, a way that would bring joy and happiness to people instead of death. Already he had surprised himself with his own laughter, and he had to admit that hearing an audience laugh at his antics on stage had felt almost liberating. After the darkness of the Bakumatsu and the loneliness of wandering, it was like a tiny ray of sunlight sneaking into his life, and he didn't want to let it go. If only Orinosuke weren't about to find out the truth about him, if only that ceremonial guard hadn't recognized him on the street that morning….

Kenshin sighed. Baiko was right. Any chance he might have had for a normal life had been forfeited the moment he became a hitokiri, but that didn't mean he didn't long for it. For these few brief days, he had almost managed to forget that he had no right to such a life. No, his lot in life was to wander to the end of his days trying to atone for all the lives he had taken, and he couldn't afford to forget that ever again. He steeled himself now, tried to harden his heart, for despite all his wishes, he knew he had to leave this family right away. Danger lurked within the very theater itself, not only in the person of Orinosuke, but especially in the presence of the man now onstage as an extra who sought revenge against the Hitokiri Battousai.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of applause coming from the theater. The boys stopped what they were doing, then turned to each other and clapped hands in a high five—their enforced babysitting was at an end! They yelled "See 'ya later!" to Kenshin, then ran full speed for the theater just as Ennosuke emerged from the back door.

This was Kenshin's chance. Even though Ennosuke was heading for the wagon, he was on crutches, and it would take him awhile to cross the courtyard. All Kenshin needed to do was grab his sakabatou and zori, then jump over the wall—he could change out of his costume later and leave it where it could be easily found. He quickly started up the wagon steps to tell Nomi she could get up now, only to find that somehow, despite all the noise the boys had been making, she had fallen fast asleep. Worse, she had stretched herself out crosswise in front of the opening, preventing him from doing anything quickly, especially dressed as he was in the bulky woman's kimono. It would take too long to tie back the kimono's voluminous sleeves and grab for his things without waking up Nomi. He looked back and saw Ennosuke waving to him. He had no choice. He backed down the steps and waved back.

"What's going on up there?" Ennosuke called out softly. "Is Nomi-chan giving you a hard time?"

Kenshin plastered an innocent smile on his face and said, "Sessha was hoping to change out of this costume, but it looks like Nomi-chan has finally fallen asleep." It was the truth, after all, though not the full truth.

"Finally?" Ennosuke said. "I'll bet she tried to keep herself up, didn't she." He slowly lowered himself into a sitting position on the wagon step, then said, "Anyway, Mother should have told you that all of us go out for a final bow after the last act, including you. You'll have to stay in costume for that."

Kenshin's smile faded. Another delay? He needed to get away, and get away _now_. With Ennosuke apparently settling in for some babysitting duty, however, it would be virtually impossible to take off undetected, even for someone as good at disappearing as Kenshin was. His mind raced as he considered his limited options. Then it occurred to him—why wasn't Ennosuke out front signing autographs?

"Ennosuke-san," he finally said, his smile plastered once more on his face, "shouldn't you be signing those souvenir fans right now?"

"Oh, they went straight into the first act of _Kanjincho _without an intermission," Ennosuke replied. "They won't need me out front until after the first act. Why?"

"Oh, nothing," Kenshin said nonchalantly, but Ennosuke's answer told Kenshin exactly what he needed to know.

The two sat there now, Ennosuke leaning back and relaxing, glad to be off his leg, and Kenshin sitting tense and uncomfortable in the silence. Ennosuke glanced over at him. He had never really had an opportunity to get a true measure of this man, though how much he could glean while Kenshin was dressed as a woman was debatable. He thought back to his one extended conversation with Kenshin, the one that seemed to have raised more questions than answers, and decided the time had come to find out just what it was about Kenshin that had so set off his oldest brother's alarms. "So," he said after a long silence, "are you just back from fighting up in Aizu and Hokkaido with the Satsuma army, like Baiko-san?"

There was something troubling Ennosuke—Kenshin could feel it—but he didn't know what. "Who, me?" he asked innocently. "Oh, no, sessha isn't from Satsuma." Then he quickly plastered the silly smile on his face, something he seemed to be doing a lot of lately. Best to play dumb, he decided.

"Oh, I just sort of assumed…. So what brought you this far south, then?"

Kenshin went on full alert. Ennosuke was a skilled actor—his voice gave nothing away—but Kenshin could tell from his ki that Ennosuke was aiming for more than just idle chit-chat. An interrogation, that's what Ennosuke was up to—not a hostile one, but an interrogation nonetheless. He determined to bring it quickly to an end. "Sessha was just looking for someplace warm to spend the winter, that's all."

"Ah, good thought," Ennosuke replied. "Kagoshima is noted for its mild winters…." But Ennosuke wasn't willing to let it go at that. There was something about Kenshin that obviously had set Orinosuke off, and as much as he thought his oldest brother was an overbearing bastard, he had to admit that his brother's instincts were often right. "So if you weren't with the Satsuma army, whose army were you with?" he continued in a conversational tone.

This man wasn't about to give up, was he? Choosing his words carefully and keeping the benign smile on his face, Kenshin answered, "Sessha was with the Ishin Shishi." Best not to be too specific, he figured, and for a brief moment he thought maybe he had managed to satisfy Ennosuke's curiosity, but he was wrong.

"Ishin Shishi? The patriots during the Bakumatsu? But that was years ago." He looked again at Kenshin. "You're about my age, aren't you? Maybe a little younger? Surely you couldn't have fought that long ago…."

"Sessha quit after Toba Fushimi," Kenshin broke in. That, he knew, would be a safe answer. Thousands of soldiers from all over the country had descended on those two unlucky towns, and at that battle it didn't matter which rebel province one was allied with. Ennosuke didn't need to know any more than that.

"Ah," said Ennosuke with an understanding nod. Then, after a little mental math, he said, "So, you must have been, what, eighteen or so? Well, that makes sense. And that's when you decided never to kill again, right? I can understand that. Even down here, where news is months old by the time we get it, we heard that Toba Fushimi was an extremely bloody battle."

"Aa," was all Kenshin said in response, but he decided now to get up and walk around. He couldn't afford to have Ennosuke ask any more questions.

He wandered along the long wall, stopping here and there to examine some of the scraggly bushes that lined it, when he felt, more than heard, Baiko come through the gate. He looked up to find Baiko half-running to the wagon with two bedrolls and their travel bags slung over his shoulders. The look of surprise on his face at seeing Kenshin still in costume was unmistakable. Kenshin hurried forward to meet him before Ennosuke could ask any questions.

"Himura, what the hell…?" Baiko sputtered as he dropped their things near the wagon.

"Shh," Kenshin said quickly "Nomi-chan is asleep." With a meaningful look, he added, "In the wagon."

"In the—what?"

"Your friend here was so anxious to get out of his costume he wanted to change right away, but Nomi-chan is napping," Ennosuke supplied helpfully.

Baiko looked from Ennosuke to the wagon to Kenshin as the situation became clear to him—Kenshin was stuck. He picked up Kenshin's things and flung them at him and said, "Here, take these and follow me. We'll stick them on the seat up front for now."

Baiko grabbed Kenshin's kimono sleeve and started dragging him along. "What the hell is going on?" he whispered when they were out of earshot of Ennosuke. "I thought you'd be ready to bolt by now!"

"Nomi-chan fell asleep across the wagon opening," Kenshin explained quickly, "and before sessha could get in, Ennosuke-san was here. There will be another intermission soon, and then this one will be gone."

Baiko sighed. "Well, I hope you have better luck this time. Listen. I know you're still planning to deliver a letter of some sort to that guy who's hunting for you. What's his name? Ozumi? Ozawa?"

"Ozawa," Kenshin confirmed.

"And I'm guessing you're not planning to give it to him here, right?"

"That would not be wise, no."

"That's what I figured, so I asked the innkeeper if he knew where Shimazu-sama and his bodyguards were staying. Turns out he's not the governor of Miyazaki—did you know that? He's just visiting because of that dinky shrine we saw back there. Anyway, he's staying with the governor of this prefecture, who lives in the old daimyo's compound. The compound has a barracks, but that's not where you'll find his ceremonial guards—they're being billetted in the south guest house at the back. The compound's not far from the inn, so he says."

Kenshin absently patted the sleeve holding the letter. This was good information; it would save him valuable time later. He squeezed Baiko's arm and said, "Thanks."

"So, are you going to tell me when you plan to meet this guy?" Baiko asked before Kenshin could walk away.

Kenshin looked surprised at the question. "Baiko, you're a good friend and all, but this must be between only me and this man."

"I know, but…you know…I mean, what if something were to happen…if you were all alone…I mean, you said so yourself, there are no guarantees in a swordfight…."

Kenshin laughed softly. "Baiko, sessha will be just fine, but if it makes you feel any better, it's at midnight in the clearing where you found me at lunchtime."

Baiko smiled weakly. "Yeah, I know, you'll be fine," but he planned to hide himself nearby anyway, just to make sure.

Baiko walked back to sit with Ennosuke now, and Kenshin listened as the two started talking and laughing together about something or other. Then came the sounds of applause from the theater, and he saw Bunjiro waving to Ennosuke from the backstage door. Baiko helped Ennosuke up onto his crutches, and the two hurried off to the front courtyard, leaving Kenshin alone.

Well, not entirely alone, for before Ennosuke and Baiko had even reached the gate, the twelve extras had already started filing out into the courtyard to relax. Despite their costumes, no one would mistake these men for actors. Or at least Kenshin's well-honed senses had no trouble telling that every one of these men was a highly skilled samurai, and it didn't take long to realize that one of them was staring at him. No matter—he would be gone in a matter of minutes. He turned his back on the men and climbed up to the wagon bench, hoping to enter the wagon from the front and avoid Nomi entirely. Unfortunately, when he pulled the curtain aside, he found that someone had piled up a bunch of boxes against the opening. He growled in irritation.

There was nothing for it but to try again to enter from the rear without waking Nomi. So, tying up his copious kimono sleeves and pulling the voluminous hem as tightly around his legs as possible, he kneeled next to the sleeping child and reached for where he had left his sakabatou. His hand, however, felt only empty space. He leaned forward to get a better look, but his sakabatou, as well as his zori, were nowhere in sight. He leaned even farther forward over Nomi and started frantically feeling around for his weapon. Nothing! Nomi stirred now as a stray fold from Kenshin's kimono brushed the side of her face.

"Mama?" she murmured drowsily at what she thought was a woman next to her.

Kenshin looked back. Now was not the time for Nomi to be waking up—it would take too much time to quiet her, and he had precious little of that. And so, as calmly as he could, he said, "Hush, Nomi-chan, it's not time to wake up yet."

"Oh, okay," she responded dreamily, and she rolled over and went back to sleep.

Kenshin sat back on his heels now, an unfamiliar feeling of panic rising in his chest. He was positive he had left his sakabatou halfway back in the wagon along the left wall, yet it definitely was not there. But wait a minute. He hadn't known that a child would be napping in the wagon, and certainly no one would have wanted a weapon within easy reach of little hands….

He looked up along the walls of the wagon. There it was, on a top shelf near the front of the wagon, along with his zori. Ikuko must have put them there sometime after he left. He couldn't risk stirring Nomi a second time—that would guarantee the little firecracker would stay awake—so he quickly backed down the stairs of the wagon and headed again for the wagon bench, determined to move the boxes so he could reach the shelf. He was just about to do so when he sensed someone approaching. It was Ikuko, bearing a tray of food. "Himura-san?" he heard her call out.

He ducked down. Were all the gods conspiring against him or something? He heard Ikuko call out again; apparently, she had not seen him yet. He quickly analyzed his options, given this latest turn of events. Perhaps he could just hide and not answer, and then she would go away, but Ikuko, he knew, was not the sort to give up, just like her eldest son Orinosuke. If he didn't answer, she would probably start searching for him, and no matter what explanation he came up with for why he was hiding, it would make it even more difficult for him to disappear later. Once again, he had no choice. And so, with a sinking heart, he climbed down from the wagon seat and bowed a greeting. How incongruous, he thought ruefully as he watched Ikuko approach. Here he was, the infamous Hitokiri Battousai, known far and wide for his ability to appear and disappear like a shadow, being thwarted in all his attempts to disappear by a grandmother and a three-year old!

"Konnichiwa, Himura-san," Ikuko sang out, a huge smile on her face and a tray of rice balls in her hand. "Things are just going so well, thanks to you! Your play was a hit, Youngest Son is well enough to do _The Medicine Seller_, what more could our family ask for!" She held out the tray to Kenshin and said, "Here, I've brought you a snack in case you're hungry."

Kenshin forced a smile on his face and took the proffered food with a bow.

"Oh, now, no need to be so formal with me anymore," Ikuko said with a smile. "You're family now—Shinosuke the First—and we're proud to have you. Won't you reconsider joining our acting school? Second Son told me you declined, but we'd be so honored…."

What he wouldn't give to be able to say yes, to keep experiencing what it felt like to bring joy to people, but he knew that was just a fantasy. No, the reality was that he needed to leave this family forever before something terrible befell them because of him. The smile, of course, never left his face as he forced himself to say, "The offer was most kind, but a rurouni is a rurouni, after all…."

Ikuko waved his words away. "Oh, pish-tush," she said. "If you had a reason to stay put, you would, wouldn't you?" She was about to say more, but to Kenshin's relief, she saw Byako waving and calling out to her from the theater. "Oh, goodness," she exclaimed. "Intermission must be nearly over. I'd better get back to work! Well, enjoy the rice balls, Himura-san."

The intermission was nearly over? This intermission was Kenshin's last best opportunity to leave inconspicuously, and now it was gone! He walked back behind the wagon, away from the prying eyes of the extras, and munched a rice ball, his mind working at a furious pace. He figured he had maybe less than five minutes before someone, probably Ennosuke, came back to take over babysitting duties; it would take less than that to climb over Nomi, grab his sakabatou and zori, and be gone over the wall. Nomi, however, would awaken for sure and immediately tell her father about his disappearance. Ennosuke, he guessed, would then probably sound an alarm, which would bring out the governor's bodyguards within minutes. He had no doubt he could elude anyone who tried to search for him, but not dressed as he was in his costume.

But if hopping the wall before the end of the performance was not an option, what then? It had been the presence at the rehearsal of Ozawa, the man seeking revenge against him, that had prompted Daisuke to forbid any talk about the Hitokiri Battousai until after the show, but once the performance was over, Ozawa and his comrades would be free to tell Orinosuke everything they knew. And heaven forbid that Orinosuke should strike up a conversation with the bodyguard attending the governor who had actually seen Kenshin at that meeting five years ago! Kenshin had no doubt that if Orinosuke found out the truth that way, he would immediately tell Ozawa. Either way, the chance of a bloody swordfight right then and there was tremendous, and in such an emotionally charged atmosphere, there was always the danger that innocents might be injured or killed. Rarely had he felt so powerless to stop the inevitable.

His guess about Ennosuke turned out to be right. Within five minutes, Ennosuke was back at the wagon to babysit, along with Saburo and Oda, who immediately pulled out a deck of cards to play menko. Ennosuke was looking pale and drawn. Kenshin offered him a rice ball.

"Oh, no thanks, I had a little something while I was out front," Ennosuke said as he carefully lowered himself onto the wagon steps to sit. He closed his eyes, and Kenshin noticed a small grimace of pain cross his face. "Maybe I overdid it a little today," Ennosuke muttered softly. "Ah, well…." Then he gave a chuckle and said, "I hear my adoring fans gave you a bit of trouble out there."

Kenshin smiled wanly. He was in no mood at this point for small talk. "They were rightly insistent on seeing you, not me" he managed to answer.

Ennosuke chuckled again. "They can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, can't they. Fame isn't all it's cracked up to be, if you know what I mean."

Oh, yes, Kenshin knew exactly what he meant. If he hadn't done his own job so well back during the Bakumatsu….

"So," Ennosuke continued, "what do you plan to do with yourself once we get back to Kagoshima?"

Back to Kagoshima? Oh, yes, Kenshin remembered that no one knew yet that he had no intention of traveling back with them. Following Baiko's advice to give nothing away, he said merely, "Sessha will probably wander as before."

Ennosuke turned to look at him. "But why not stay on with us? I know Second Brother suggested a career as an onnagata, but you wouldn't have to limit yourself to that."

Kenshin groaned inwardly. Give nothing away, he reminded himself again, so he said, "Ryosuke-san said my voice wasn't low enough for anything else."

"He said what!" Ennosuke started laughing so hard he was practically in tears. "He said that to you!"

Kenshin just looked at him. It wasn't _that_ funny, was it?

"I'm sorry, Himura-san," Ennosuke managed to say between guffaws, "it's just that Second Brother's voice used to be rather high itself, and we used to tease him mercilessly over it. Why, it didn't really lower to where it is now until he was about your age!" He laughed some more before he brought himself under control. "He should have told you there are ways to lower a voice. All it takes is opening the throat some and projecting from the chest. That's what he did for years!" And he started laughing all over again.

Kenshin glowered. It was bad enough that Ryosuke had made fun of his speaking voice, but to not tell him there was a way to make himself sound more authoritative? Actually, he could have made good use of that information about seven years ago….

"Oh, come on, Himura-san, don't look so put out. I know you're not comfortable as an onnagata…."

"I didn't think it was that obvious," Kenshin broke in.

"Well, anyone who's so frantic to get out of a costume can't possibly be comfortable," Ennosuke noted, "but there's so much more you could do…."

Suddenly, a small face poked out from the wagon, and a sleepy voice said, "Papa?" Nomi was awake. "Papa!" she cried out, and she crawled into Ennosuke's lap and gave him a big hug. She gave Kenshin a sleepy smile, then buried her face in her father's shoulder. "You look silly," she said to her father, whose costume, Kenshin had to agree, looked totally ridiculous.

Ennosuke nuzzled her back and murmured, "Why, thank you."

In what other family, Kenshin thought to himself, would such a comment be taken as a compliment? No doubt about it, he was going to miss all of them—well, maybe not _all_ of them, but most of them—very much. Still, Kenshin was relieved that Nomi had interrupted Ennosuke's conversation, for it was getting harder and harder to deal with. He was tired of lying, tired of pretending. He wanted more than anything to just be honest with these people, but it couldn't be. Instead, he got up and went to join the boys in their card game.

They were into their fourth round of menko when Bunjiro trotted up to tell them it was time to head back to the theater. The boys cheered and quickly picked up their cards, glad to have this long afternoon over with. Kenshin felt like cheering with them. Playing menko had saved him from uncomfortable conversation, but he had found it to be a supremely unchallenging and utterly boring game. No wonder Hiko had never taught it to him. The children skipped and jumped now as they followed Ennosuke and Kenshin to the backstage door, making such a racket that Ennosuke finally called out, "Shh! There's still a play going on! And remember, you've got to be very quiet backstage until your mothers are done and come for you."

Saburo, Oda, and Nomi all nodded their heads very seriously, then entered the backstage room and sat on one of the benches as quietly as little mice. The room was so empty now, but Kenshin knew that within minutes, it would be crawling with twelve ceremonial guards. He would be glad to be out front when that happened.

"Himura-san," Ennosuke said softly, "as soon as Father and my brothers take their bows, we'll go out and link hands with them for a joint bow. Then Father will lead us down the ramp into the audience and out the front. The audience follows us, we give out last-minute autographs, and within fifteen or twenty minutes, everyone's gone and we get to eat dinner. Got it?"

"Got it," Kenshin acknowledged. Fifteen or twenty minutes, and all the children will be backstage instead of at the wagon? Maybe he'd have that chance to get away after all….

He followed Ennosuke and Bunjiro to the stage wings to await their entrance. Bunjiro quietly pulled out the wheelchair for Ennosuke, and Kenshin helped him settle in. Then the last words of the play were spoken and applause broke out. Within a minute, the three of them joined the others onstage for a group bow and the long walk down the ramp and out the theater door.

**Japanese Terms:**

Setsubun: festival of the spring equinox, the traditional time to cast evil out of one's house.

Kyogen: classical comic theater traditionally performed as interludes between Noh plays. The form was taken up by kabuki troupes during the later part of the Edo period.

wasabi: hot Japanese horseradish.

daimyo: Japanese equivalent of a feudal lord during the Edo period.

onnagata: in kabuki, a male actor who plays the female roles.

geta: wooden sandals.

Ojiisan: generic term for grandfather, often used to address any elderly person.

hanetsuki: a game similar to badminton, played at that time with two large wooden paddles and a cork ball.

zori: Japanese sandals.

Bakumatsu: Japanese civil war.

Toba Fushimi: the decisive battle in January 1868 that effectively ended the shogunate.

Konnichiwa: 'good afternoon,' and also 'hi.'

menko: a card game in which players try to flip each other's cards out of a ring, somewhat like tiddlywinks.

**Author's Note:** I know, I know, once again it's been way too long since the last chapter, and if Co-Conspirator weren't so slow, you'd be getting two chapters today instead of one. That's because this chapter originally was so long (36 pages) that Co-Conspirator rightly demanded that it be split in two. Unfortunately, she hasn't gotten around to giving her final okay to the second half, but it's coming very, very soon. So, if you figure it's been taking me about two months to post a single chapter, but this time it's taken two months to come up with _two_ chapters, then that's only a month per chapter, right? I've actually been _more_ efficient this time, right? (runs in panic from rabid attack squirrels…)

Kenshin tried once again to prevent this story from ending (sneaky little bugger)—it was his fault that I deleted nearly all of the chapter while trying to paste in some writing I did on another computer, causing, as you can imagine, much anguish (not to mention fear of certain attack squirrels). Luckily, three days earlier I had done a rare, complete backup of my hard drive, and there it was, thank goodness! Sorry, Kenshin…. At the urging of Co-Conspirator and a reviewer, however, there will be an epilogue, which should make him feel better.

Shimazu Hisamitsu's comment about Satsuma being a leader in western technology even before the revolution is true. The defeat of huge China by tiny Great Britain in 1851 led his predecessor, Shimazu Nariakira, to decide to bring the new western technology to Kagoshima. Despite the shogun's aboslute ban on such endeavors, he surrpetitiously sent several men to Europe for education; then, using knowledge gleaned from them and from western textbooks, he managed to build a successful western-style shipyard, armaments factory, blast furnace, brickworks, explosives works, and small arms manufacture, all without the help of western engineers. Obviously, being at the southernmost tip of Japan, far from the shogun's reach, had its advantages!

Poor Kenshin, longing to belong, to be accepted or not purely on who and what he was now, not on what he was or had done as a young teenager. After nearly three years of wandering, I figure he's only now realizing that no matter how much he atones for what he did as a hitokiri, the world will never forgive him for what he did during the Bakumatsu, and that in all likelihood that one tiny taste in Otsu of a normal, happy life may be all the taste he will ever get. That, to me, is the great tragedy of Kenshin (to all you teenagers out there, let this be a cautionary tale—the actions you take now may haunt you forever). Of course, we all know that this tragedy is eventually resolved in Tokyo (No! No! Hate Kaoru!—Co-C.), but when this story takes place, the poor guy still has seven years of angst to go. No wonder he tried to stay with the kabuki troupe by deleting the end of my story!

**Co-Conspirator's Note:** Meheheheh… (ducks the squirrels). It's been awhile, hasn't it? We must admit that although the delay was partially the result of Conspirator's writer's block (oops—C.) and mischief caused by a certain trouble-making red-head, that a lot of it was my fault. I'm sorry, I promise I'll be faster next time! I seem to recall this chapter going through a number of major overhauls until it ended up the way it is now. Still, I would have liked to see more of Kenshin's loving admirers—he's so darn manly (snicker)!

Angsty, angsty, angsty, this chapter sure isn't lacking in the tear-jerker department (which is why Co-C. was laughing hysterically most of the way through it—C.). Cough. Seems Kenshin isn't the only one that gets poked fun at in this chapter (yes, I was making fun of CoC., but I won't tell you where--C.). I sympathize with Kenshin's inability to escape since it seems grandparents and children are indeed some of the most difficult things to thwart.

Next chapter: Some stuff happens! Can Kenshin avoid being recognized, or is the impending fight unavoidable? Will Orinosuke finally get what he deserves? Will Kenshin be forced to wander the world forever dressed as a woman? You'll never know unless you read the next chapter. Much excitement to come!


	12. chapter 12

Kenshin has written a letter to the man seeking revenge, telling him of his oath never to kill again. Now he needs to deliver it, but first he must disappear from Daisuke's family before anyone learns his real identity.

Watsuki Nobuhiro, of course, is the ultimate copyright holder, not me. Curious as to what he looks like (at least in his own view)? Check out the new Watsuki-themed wallpaper by Author-chan on Haku Baikou's RK website!

Here's the list of who's who in the Daisuke family:

Daisuke: also called Father, Father-in-Law.  
Orinosuke: also called First Son, First Brother.  
Ryosuke: also called Second Son, Second Brother.  
Ennosuke: also called Youngest Son, Youngest Brother.  
Ikuko: Daisuke's wife.  
Mayako: Orinosuke's wife.  
Mei: Ryosuke's wife.  
Noriko: Ennosuke's wife.  
Bunjiro, Byako: Orinosuke's sons.  
Saburo, Oda: Ryosuke's sons.  
Nomi: Ennosuke's daughter.

An Unexpected Lesson

By

Conspirator

Chapter 12

It was nearly dark now, the deepest part of twilight, with only torches to light the courtyard. All the vendors had already closed up and gone home, and so with nothing to delay them, most of the theatergoers started heading home, with Baiko pointing out the way for them. As predicted, some hung back to collect more autographs, even from Kenshin.

His concentration was elsewhere, however, for there was one group that seemed inclined not to leave the courtyard at all—the large retinue of the governor. Only after the last autograph hound had left did the governor and his group approach, apparently for another long talk with Daisuke and his sons. The long formalities of greeting and praise went on and on, seemingly interminably. That's when Kenshin realized that no one, not even the governor's bodyguards, was paying much attention to him. Experimentally, he took two steps back. No one noticed. He took another two steps back. Still no reaction. Nobody was watching.

This was his chance to escape, and he took it. He stealthily walked farther and farther back until he was completely within the deep shadow of the theater building, then he hurried along its wall to the gate leading to the back. Two of the governor's bodyguards were blocking the gate, but as Kenshin was one of the actors, they had no hesitation about letting him through.

As soon as the gate was closed, he ran for the wagon as best he could in the high geta and threw himself inside. Immediately, he reached up and grabbed his sakabatou and zori from the high shelf, then quickly whipped off his wig. There was no way in the darkness that he could run through the forest undetected while wearing the cumbersome woman's kimono, so he quickly untied the obi and slipped out of the kimono and bulky chest-piece. Then he grabbed for the towels Ikuko had used earlier to clean his wound and hurriedly started rubbing the makeup off his face; in the dark, the bright white would make him stand out too much. In his haste, he didn't even bother searching for a mirror; he just hoped that with sufficient rubbing, all traces of the makeup would eventually be gone.

He was still rubbing the red off his lips when he detected the approach of an extremely hostile ki, and it was coming fast. It was Orinosuke. He threw down the rag, quickly slipped his sakabatou into his obi and the zori onto his feet, and made for the wagon opening. Orinosuke was in his face before he could jump out. Kenshin tried to push past him, but Orinosuke pulled out his sword and barred the way. Kenshin backed up and said, "That's a costume sword."

Orinosuke sneered, "But as we all know, even a dull blade can inflict grievous wounds—Hitokiri Battousai."

He stared at Kenshin's impassive face, waiting for some reaction but finding none. "Oh, yes, I know who you are, and I have proof now. You see, I've just had a talk with one of Shimazu-sama's bodyguards, one who apparently met you several years ago."

He pushed further into the wagon, forcing Kenshin back. Then he yelled out, "Father! Brothers! Come quick! I've caught the Hitokiri Battousai!" To Kenshin he added darkly, "Lucky for you the governor's men just left."

"Why are you doing this, Orinosuke-san?" Kenshin asked in a cold voice. "Sessha has no argument with you; this one wishes only to leave."

Now there was the sound of running and shouts of "What's going on out there?" Baiko was the first to arrive, and as soon as Orinosuke saw him, he called out, "Get up here and draw your sword—he's the Hitokiri Battousai!"

Baiko stared at Orinosuke's stormy face, then at Kenshin's emotionless one, and hesitated.

"You heard me, man—draw your sword!" Orinosuke yelled in fury. "That's an order!" He slapped Baiko hard on the face, and Baiko reluctantly drew his sword. "And aim it at _him_!" Orinosuke added when he saw that Baiko had no intention of pointing the blade at Kenshin.

By now Daisuke and Ryosuke had reached the wagon. Daisuke roughly pushed Baiko out of the way and yelled, "What the hell is going on here? What's this all about?"

Orinosuke turned to his father, his face triumphant as he announced, "This, Father, is the man everyone's searching for! The Hitokiri Battousai—that's who your beloved rurouni really is!" At his father's look of disbelief, Orinosuke said, "Oh yes, I have my proof now. You wouldn't believe me before when I said he was dangerous, but now I have the proof! Shimazu-sama's bodyguard, Father—he met the great Hitokiri Battousai once, and he told me all about him. The one they call the demon from hell, the one who moves with the speed of the gods and flies like one as well. The one they say drinks blood for the fun of it! Red hair, he said, a cross-shaped scar on his cheek. Thought he'd be taller, he said, but he's really rather short—and very young…."

Daisuke pushed his son aside and faced Kenshin himself. He stared into Kenshin's eyes and demanded, "Is this true?"

Kenshin looked down at his hands. "There were some who called me that," Kenshin answered softly.

"You see?" Orinosuke crowed. He spotted Ennosuke now, who was just reaching the wagon on his crutches. "Brother, do you believe me now?" Then, turning to his father, he said, "For seven long years you've kept us in Kagoshima, one bad decision piling on top of another. I always thought moving us from Kyoto was the first, but maybe giving money to those blood-sucking Ishin Shishi was the first. Now, though, you've gone too far. You made us harbor not just a killer, but the most notorious killer in all Japan! You put all of our lives at risk!"

He turned to look at Ryosuke and Ennosuke and said, "It's time this family had new leadership. It's time we took back our rightful place in Kyoto. If you had any doubts about that before, _this_…" and he pointed his sword back at Kenshin "…should prove it!"

Ryosuke suddenly pushed his way into the wagon, grabbed his brother by the neck of his costume, and punched him square in the jaw. Then he threw him out onto the ground. "Is that what this is all about? Displacing Father as head of this family?" he shouted angrily. "Never!"

Orinosuke got up and brushed himself off. "You're outnumbered, Second Brother. Youngest Brother agreed to join me once I had proof. Isn't that right, Youngest Brother?"

Ennosuke glared with outrage at Orinosuke and growled, "I agreed to no such thing. How dare you try to displace our father!" Then he turned to Daisuke and asked him pointedly, "What do you want us to do?"

Daisuke was furious at Orinosuke's mutinous remarks. Without even turning around, he said, "Get First Son out of my sight. I'll deal with Himura-san."

Daisuke rubbed his forehead wearily as he tried to block out the sounds of his family screaming and yelling at each other. How could it be? This gentle rurouni, who had saved his youngest son's life and even agreed to help out as an onnagata, was the infamous Hitokiri Battousai? He looked again at the young man standing forlornly before him, then at Baiko, who was still standing with his sword held out half-heartedly by his side.

"Oh, put that thing away, will you?" Daisuke muttered to Baiko. Then he turned to Kenshin and said, "Look at me."

Kenshin looked up, but before Daisuke could speak, Baiko broke in. "Daisuke-san, he's not what you think…."

Daisuke looked at Baiko with tired eyes. "What do you know about this?" he asked dispiritedly, "and for how long?"

"Since that first night," Baiko answered truthfully, "when he told us his name was Himura. Listen, you know I fought in the Boshin War. My squad commander was a fellow named Matsuo—Matsuo Hideoki from Choushu. Big guy, never said more than three words at a time, as honest as the day is long. He's the one who told us the Hitokiri Battousai's real name was Himura. He told us Himura was his friend, that Himura was a good man, not some ferocious demon. Daisuke-san, Matsuo is the most honest, plain-speaking man I've ever met. If he said Himura was a good man, then there was no question in my mind that he was. And Himura himself has proved it. Orinosuke-san attacked him twice, but did Himura do anything to hurt him? And even those rotten thieves—if anyone deserved to die, it was them. But did he kill them? No! Matsuo was right!"

Daisuke had been staring at Kenshin as Baiko spoke, trying to make sense of everything and having a hard time of it. "_You_ are the one who caused so much carnage in Kyoto?" he finally managed. Then a thought occurred to him. Hadn't Kenshin told them he was twenty-two? But that would mean…. Impossible! "Why, you would have been just a young boy back then! It can't be!" Daisuke sputtered incredulously.

Kenshin didn't say anything. He just kept staring at the hands in his lap.

It was unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable. This young man, who looked barely older than a boy anyway, had once been a cold-blooded killer? Daisuke still couldn't see it in him, but the facts were the facts, and Kenshin wasn't denying them. "Himura-san," Daisuke said, "I don't know what to think. You apparently are who they say you are, but I've seen no sign, no hint even of any of that…."

"What they say is true," Kenshin said softly. "Sessha cannot deny it, though what this one did nearly destroyed my soul. That's why sessha vowed that once the war was over, he would never take another life again, and he hasn't. Sessha took up the sakabatou instead and pledged himself to protect the defenseless. It was the only way this one knew to atone for all the lives he had taken. Sessha doesn't blame Orinosuke for his fear. It's no more than sessha deserves…."

Daisuke stopped him. "You deserve no such thing! You've been nothing but honorable during your stay with us! There was absolutely no call for my son to treat you so dishonorably! But what to do about you now…."

"Daisuke-san, sessha knew it was only a matter of time before your son figured things out. This one should have left this morning, but there was my promise to you to stay for the performance for Shimazu-sama. Sessha thought perhaps he could disappear right after the first play—before anything happened—but…."

"Tell me truthfully, Himura-san," Daisuke broke in, for a troubling thought had occurred to him. "Are you a wanted man? Is the government looking for you?"

Kenshin hesitated before replying. He had not thought so, but then there was that comment from Ennosuke the other day that suggested Okubo Toshimichi was looking for him. He had heard rumors that the new government was hunting down anyone who knew too much of its dirty laundry, and Kenshin certainly fit that description. He decided to answer as truthfully as possible. "Sessha was promised that wouldn't happen," he said finally.

"By whom?" Daisuke pressed.

"My leader, Katsura Kogoro."

"Katsura Kogoro?" Daisuke repeated in astonishment. "_The_ Katsura Kogoro?"

"He was Himura-san's direct superior," Baiko confirmed. "I know that from what Matsuo told me."

"Well, that puts things in a different light…," Daisuke started, but Kenshin stopped him. He had an idea of what Daisuke was thinking, and he knew he had to head it off.

"This one will be forever grateful for the kindness you and your family have shown me," he put in quickly, "but it would be a mistake for you to shelter me any further. It's not just the fear that would always be lurking in the back of your minds if this one stayed. Sessha wishes this weren't so, but now that people know who this one is, my presence would bring only danger to you and your family. The fact that someone even now seeks me out for revenge places all of you in danger. There is no choice but for me to leave."

He reached forward to move boxes away from the wagon seat, where his travel bag and bedroll were, but Daisuke stopped him. It struck Daisuke that what was happening here was just like the plot of one of their kabuki tragedies, only this time he had the power to change the outcome.

"Meet back up with us in Kagoshima—you'd be safe with us there," he said quickly. "First Son will be gone to Kyoto, and Shimazu-sama could provide you his protection. Why, he was just saying this afternoon that if we needed anything…."

"But it's one of his own ceremonial guards who has a claim on my life—a legitimate claim," Kenshin reminded him. "No matter how much sessha might wish otherwise, it can't be."

Daisuke watched as Kenshin pulled his things off the wagon seat and into the wagon. The look on Kenshin's face told him there was no turning him away from his decision. "Then I'd better find the money right now to pay your portion of the reward. If you hadn't been with us when we ran into those yakuza…."

"It is most generous," Kenshin demurred, "but sessha cannot accept payment for using his sword. Baiko-san is your security guard. The money should rightly go to him."

Baiko shot him a surprised glance and mouthed a silent "Thanks!"

"Well, then, at least let me pay you for the two performances you've done," Daisuke insisted. "It's only right."

Kenshin paused to consider this offer when Ikuko suddenly burst in.

"Himura-san, what's this about your being the Hitokiri Battousai?" she demanded to know. She stared hard into Kenshin's eyes. The level of sorrow and guilt she saw within them told her everything. "Oh, Himura-chan," she moaned softly. "You?"

Kenshin lowered his eyes.

Now a whole range of emotions played across Ikuko's face—surprise, fear, anger, then resolve.

"Young man, you're in great danger," she suddenly announced. "Husband, are you aware there is a man in town seeking to kill him? We've got to get him out of here!" Now she started barking out orders. "Baiko-san, go keep an eye on First Son—make sure he doesn't do anything rash. And send Bunjiro-chan over here with one of those bento boxes the inn just sent over."

Baiko took off with a quick, "Hai, hai!"

"Husband, we need to give him his portion of the reward…."

"He's refused it," Daisuke said, " but I do believe he'll accept payment for the two performances he's done, right?" Kenshin nodded yes. "Then I'll need the money from today's souvenir sales to pay him, and Baiko-san still has that envelope. We'll need him back here right away." Then to Kenshin he said, "How do we go about getting you out of here?"

Kenshin started gathering up his things again. "Over the wall," he said. "That's what sessha was planning to do when Orinosuke-san stopped me. There's too great a chance of running into Shimazu-sama's entourage if this one goes out the front."

Ikuko moved behind Kenshin now to reach for a hat that was hanging on the wall of the wagon. "Here, take this," she said in a strained voice as she handed it to Kenshin. "You might need it to hide your hair."

Kenshin bowed low and murmured a thankful, "Arigatou," but when he looked back up, he saw not her usual kindly face, but a stern and implacable one.

"Himura-san, don't mistake this for kindness," Ikuko said. "I do this out of courtesy, as thanks for the services you have rendered to our family. I can't pretend to condone what you did back in Kyoto, spreading the terror that you did…."

"His immediate superior was Katsura Kogoro himself," Daisuke cut in.

"I have no doubt," Ikuko said dismissively. She was fighting with herself, a war between her conflicting feelings of outrage at what the Hitokiri Battousai had done in Kyoto and sorrow that the source of her outrage was someone she had come to care for. Why hadn't he admitted it earlier that afternoon when she told him that the Hitokiri Battousai had been sighted in the city? Her anger grew. He had deceived her.

She turned her back on them now to look out towards the theater for Bunjiro. So, Kenshin had taken orders directly from the great Katsura Kogoro himself, had he? She remembered how Kyoto that year had seemed to move so suddenly from relative calm to a sea of blood. How could she forget? Some of their most loyal patrons had been assassinated that year, killed by the Hitokiri Battousai, they had heard. That had brought out those ruthless thugs, the Shinsengumi, and then no one felt safe walking the streets, not even in broad daylight. Then came the massacre of patriot leaders at Ikedaya, followed by the terrible retribution against Ishin Shishi sympathizers everywhere. It all had the quality now of some horrible nightmare, thankfully one they had managed to escape. And all because of this seemingly sweet young man?

She looked back at Kenshin from the corner of her eye. She could tell her words had stung him deeply. He had been at the center of the nightmare that had been the Bakumatsu. So many things became clear to her now—his reticence, his flinching at the merest kind touch. She realized now that unlike her own family, he would probably have to live with this nightmare for the rest of his life. She couldn't deny she had taken a great liking to Kenshin. She had seen the truth of him through his actions over these past four days, and she knew that no matter what he might have been during the Bakumatsu, he certainly wasn't like that now. He didn't deserve this.

Bunjiro suddenly came running up with a bento box. His face was panicked. "Baiko-san and First Uncle just punched out my father," he cried. "Father was going to run after that guard who told him about Kenshin-san. He wants to get Kenshin-san killed! Grandmother, I don't want to go to with him to Kyoto! I don't even want to be near him!"

Ikuko bent down, tears in her eyes, and hugged the boy. "Hush," she said as calmly as she could. "We'll deal with all of that later. Now run back and tell Baiko-san we need him here right away."

She turned back to face Kenshin. His face was a cold, emotionless mask now, the effect of her harsh words, no doubt. She hated to admit it, but the mask he wore broke her heart.

"Oh, who am I trying to kid," she finally sighed. "What you did back then was what you were required to do, not what you wanted to do. I know that. We all did things back then that under normal circumstances we never would have done. What choice did we have if we were to survive?" She stopped and looked into Kenshin's eyes once more, then said, "You know, I've seen into your heart, Himura-chan, and what I've seen is honorable and good. It saddens me that the world may never allow itself to see in you what I've seen."

Kenshin's mask broke. Was she forgiving him? "Ikuko-dono," he started to say, but she cut him off with a flick of her hand, afraid that any more talking might bring on some tears she'd prefer not to shed. Anyway, Baiko was coming now, and time was growing short.

"Baiko-san, you have the money from today's souvenir sales?" Daisuke called out as soon as he was within earshot.

Baiko dug into his gi and handed Daisuke a fat packet. Daisuke quickly retrieved a handful of coins and handed them to Kenshin. "Two days' pay, plus a little something for your medical services."

"Medical services? But sessha can't…."

"Yes you can, and you will," Daisuke shot back. "Now, get out of here before it's too late!"

Ikuko moved away from the wagon's opening to allow Kenshin to jump down. Then she and her husband followed him to the nearby wall and watched him toss his travel bag and bedroll over the top. He placed the hat on his head, stuck the bento box inside his gi, and turned back to look at them one last time. Then he jumped gracefully over the wall and was gone from sight.

Baiko nearly missed Kenshin's departure, for he was busy rummaging in his own travel bag for his warm haori. Now he came running up and tossed it over the wall to Kenshin.

"Oi, Himura!" he yelled. "You'll need this, too!" At Daisuke and Ikuko's inquiring look, he said sheepishly, "Didn't want him to get cold." He heard Kenshin pick it up, then there was silence, not even the sound of a footfall.

It was pitch black in the forest behind the theater, with not even the moon to light the way. Kenshin had no need of light, however. His night vision was excellent, and he knew exactly where he was headed—the clearing at the end of the path between the Miyazaki Jingu shrine and the cliff, where he had stood just that morning admiring the view.

It wasn't just the sea he had noticed then. His instincts being what they were, he had naturally found himself scanning the shoreline and beach for signs of danger as well as places of refuge in case of emergency. Some habits died hard, he thought ruefully, and this time he was glad of it. As he had sat playing one mind-numbing game of menko after another with Ryosuke's boys, he remembered seeing a large pile of brush the sea had pushed up against the base of the cliff, just where the cliff formed a gentle curve around the beach. He had also noticed a series of steps leading to the beach that someone had cut roughly into the side of the hill, and this was where he headed now.

It only took a few minutes to locate the steps, though perhaps that wasn't the right word for it—it was more like foot-sized gashes, luckily made by someone with much larger feet. He slung his bag and bedroll over his back and slowly started down the series of steps, clutching at tree roots and rock outcroppings as he did to keep himself from falling. It was quite a steep descent, and it took nearly ten minutes to navigate the passage down to the beach. Once there, he quickly scanned the area for signs of life, then flattened himself against the cliff wall and quickly walked the short distance to the brush pile.

As he neared it, he stopped and cast his senses in all directions for any hints of ki. Then he removed his bag and bedroll from his back and bent low over the sand to look for footprints, whether animal or human. He wished he could light just a small clump of twigs, but it would have stood out too strongly against the darkness. Still, with great effort, he was able to determine that nothing, except a few shore birds, had been this way in quite some time.

With his safety thus assured, Kenshin began to inspect the area around the brush pile to see if it would provide suitable cover for the night. To his surprise, behind the pile he found a partially overturned boat stuck deep into the mud. The boat's bottom faced out towards the ocean, shielding him not only from wind, but also from potentially prying eyes, so he reached for the flint he always kept in his pocket and lit a few twigs for light. It was enough to show him that no animal had yet decided to make the boat its home. Another glance out at the beach showed that it was high tide now, and the water was still a good ten feet away. The boat was perfect—it would provide him with dry shelter for the night and would be a safe place to stow his things. Now all he needed to do was sneak back into the city to deliver his letter to the man who sought his life, the ceremonial guard Ozawa.

The climb back up the cliff face was as difficult as the descent, but once up on top, it took Kenshin no time at all to find his way to the edge of the city and then to the governor's mansion, keeping to the shadows and rooftops as he did. It pained him to think that the skills he was using now were the very ones that had made him so horribly successful as a hitokiri. It was only a little comfort to know that at least this time he was using those skills to try to avoid bloodshed, not to create it.

Using the information he had gotten from Baiko, he skirted the front of the governor's estate, with its ornate gate and nearby soldiers' barracks, and headed for the rear, where he could see two winged rooftops just peeking past the top of the high wall. As luck would have it, across from this wall was a row of shops shuttered for the night, and so he jumped quickly onto one of the roofs to look over the wall. Now he could see the two guest buildings the innkeeper had mentioned to Baiko. In front of one of them were several ceremonial guards lounging on the building's engawa, playing go.

While on the beach, Kenshin had picked up a good-sized rock and pocketed it, along with some strong, dried seaweed. Now he took out the letter and used the seaweed to tie it tightly to the rock. Then, when he was sure no one was looking, he stood and hurled the rock into the empty yard in front of the building. His aim was excellent. Unfortunately, one of the samurai chose that very moment to walk into the courtyard, right into the rock's trajectory. Kenshin quickly melted back into the rooftop as he heard a surprised "Oww!"

He peeked out from his prone position to see a half-dozen men race to their comrade yelling, "What happened?" Others ran for the nearest gate to look out into the street for whoever threw the rock, but none thought to search the rooftops. Then he saw the unlucky guard looking closely at the rock and heard him say rather incredulously, "It's some kind of letter addressed to Ozawa-kun!"

"Ozawa-kun?" repeated one of the men dumbly. "Who'd be writing him?"

The guard rubbed his chest where the rock had hit him and snapped, "Just stop gawking and go get him, you fool!"

Kenshin continued to watch as the cry went up for Ozawa. Within a minute, a tall, powerfully built man came out and untied the letter from the rock. The man's comrades crowded around him while he read the letter in the light of the doorway.

"What is it?" one of the men asked impatiently. "What does it say?"

Ozawa looked up and scanned the walls, then crumpled the letter roughly in his hand. "It's nothing," he said in a deadly calm voice. "Just a fan letter from some idiot."

The men started laughing and pounding Ozawa on the back, teasing him about his acting job earlier that afternoon, but Ozawa pushed them away and strode back inside.

Kenshin gave an unconscious sigh of relief. It was his greatest hope that his letter would convince Ozawa to give up his dream of revenge, but if that didn't happen, he knew there was every possibility Ozawa might bring others with him. Not that Kenshin worried about the outcome if Ozawa did, but he had no desire to inflict injury on anyone else, if he could help it. Given Ozawa's reaction to his letter, however, Kenshin now felt fairly sure that if the man did decide to meet him, he would come alone. That meant a better opportunity to try once more to turn the man away from his path of revenge.

The yard in front of the guest house emptied quickly now as Ozawa's comrades followed him in. As soon as they were all inside, Kenshin ran to the farthest end of the roof, jumped down, and made his way back to the rough steps leading to the beach and his shelter for the night. Only then did he finally relax enough to open the bento box Ikuko had given him before he left. He was ravenous by this point and would gladly have wolfed down the entire thing, but he had no way of knowing when his next meal might be. So, he allowed himself to eat only half of the dinner; the rest he reluctantly closed back up to save for tomorrow. Now there was nothing left to do but stare out at the inky darkness over the sea and wait for midnight. He glanced up at the stars to get a sense for the time—the trajectory of the constellations would help him know when to leave .

So much had happened these past four days, so much to make sense of during these hours of waiting, but all his mind could think of were the events of Kinmon no Hen—the chaos of battle, the ensuing fire that had engulfed half of Kyoto, but before anything, the order for him to silently kill as many palace guards as possible. Had he really killed this man's brother? Twenty-three men he had killed in less than ten minutes, but in his mind's eye he could still see every one of their faces. He wondered which one was Ozawa's brother. Tall and powerful, he guessed, but then to a scrawny fifteen-year-old, everyone looked tall and powerful. It bothered him now that he could not put a face to the name.

Finally, a glance at the stars showed that it was getting close to midnight. He sighed, then began the long trudge up the steps cut into the cliff. Once on top, he picked out a tall tree near the clearing and hid himself in its branches to await the probable arrival of Ozawa. Not ten minutes later, he saw a flash of something coming his way. He cast out his senses and smiled—he could tell by the ki that it was Baiko. His eyes quickly found him as the man tried to navigate his way in the darkness. There had been so few who had been willing to look past the label of hitokiri to see Kenshin for who he really was. His friend that first year in Kyoto—Yoshida was his name—had been one. Now there was Baiko. There was no need for Baiko to worry about him, of course, but it felt good to know that he did anyway.

He was suddenly shaken from his thoughts by the sound of someone else crashing noisily through the forest. The strong sense of an intensely hostile ki told him this was his adversary, and that he was alone. It was time. He quickly jumped down from the tree to await the man in the center of the clearing.

"Ozawa-san," Kenshin acknowledged as the man emerged from the woods.

"So you're the Hitokiri Battousai," Ozawa spat out in reply. "I have harbored a hatred of you ever since you killed my brother."

"Your brother died honorably, defending the emperor," Kenshin said. "There is no need for revenge."

"Like hell there isn't! You didn't just kill him—his wife was pregnant when you killed him, and she killed herself when she found out. You took her life and that of their child—murderer!"

The words were barely out of his mouth before Ozawa flew forward with all the skill and speed of a master swordsman intent upon killing with the first stroke. Kenshin stood his ground until the very last moment, then bounded up and over the man's head to land lightly behind him. Ozawa skidded to a halt and turned, hatred raging across his face.

"Do not pursue this, Ozawa-san," Kenshin warned him. "Nothing good can come from this fight. Neither your death nor mine will bring your brother back."

"I read that letter of yours," Ozawa snarled. "Atone for your sins? It almost made me puke. You'll atone all right—by my blade!"

With that, Ozawa launched into another deadly assault. As he ran forward, his sword quickly sliced the air left and right in front of him, effectively stopping any counterattack, until just as he came within sword's reach of his target. Then the swing turned into a lethal upward stroke intended to slice even a soaring swordsman in two from the crotch to the head. Kenshin quickly dropped and rolled sideways out of reach of both the slicing strokes and the killing upward stroke. Then, regaining his footing, he jumped further back and stood once again to face his challenger.

Now Ozawa was even more enraged. He had just thrown two of his most powerful techniques at this man and had not managed to leave even a mark on him. Even worse, he had yet to see any sign of the mysterious sword style the Hitokiri Battousai was said to use. The hitokiri, on the other hand, had gotten to see two of his own most powerful moves—a tactical advantage. Ozawa's anger rose even further. "Fight like a man!" Ozawa finally taunted. Then he settled into a battoujutsu stance and waited.

Kenshin remained unmoved. This man just didn't get the hint. It was time to put an end to it. Kenshin also took the battoujutsu stance and waited. The two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Ozawa had enough. He flew forward, planning to use the ougi of his style, but Kenshin had other plans. At the last possible instant, Kenshin once again launched himself skyward, and shouting "Ryu Tsui Sen!" he flew downward at Ozawa, slashing first at the hilt of Ozawa's outstretched sword, then following through with a powerful blow to Ozawa's chest. Ozawa's eyes widened in surprise as his blade broke away from his hilt. Then he crumbled to the ground in a heap.

Kenshin looked as the man clutched his chest and writhed in pain. "This fight is over," Kenshin said grimly. "You have discharged your obligation honorably. Return to your lord—he has need of your services." Then he turned to walk away.

As he did, Ozawa forced himself up onto an elbow, grabbed his wakizashi, and threw it with deadly accuracy at Kenshin's back. It had all been done so quietly, but there could be no masking of the sound a weapon makes as it is unsheathed, and there could be no mistaking the sound a weapon makes as it sails quickly through the air. Faster than the eye could see, Kenshin whirled around and drew his sword, knocking the wakizashi harmlessly to the ground. He cast a warning glance at Ozawa but said nothing, then he turned again to walk away.

Ozawa stared at his retreating form. Despite his pain, he called out, "The great Hitokiri Battousai just walks away from a fight? You haven't killed me yet! This battle is not over!"

Kenshin stopped yet again and turned one last time to face Ozawa. "The Hitokiri Battousai ceased to exist when the Bakumatsu ended. Return to your comrades. This battle is finished." Then he continued walking until he was gone from Ozawa's view.

He entered the forest now, heading for the path that led back to the cliffs and the beach. As he did, he nodded towards an ancient oak tree off to his left. "Baiko," he said simply.

Baiko had been crouching behind the huge trunk watching the whole encounter. He stood now and said, "Damn, he did it again! How did he know?" He tried to catch up to Kenshin, but Kenshin seemed to have suddenly disappeared. Baiko looked all around, then scanned the lower branches of the trees—after all, he hadn't experienced that terrifying walk through Miyazaki with Kenshin following from the rooftops for nothing—but Kenshin was gone.

"Good luck, Himura," Baiko said softly. Then he, too, turned to leave.

Kenshin smiled from his perch at the very top of one of the tallest trees; Baiko just hadn't though to look high enough. He watched as Baiko walked slowly back towards the city. He would miss Baiko, perhaps most of all.

Now he turned his attention back to Ozawa. He was relieved to see that the man was able to stand and walk, although with obvious pain and difficulty. Would these revenge matches never end? It was all such a waste. As soon as Ozawa was gone from sight, he climbed back down and returned to the overturned fishing boat on the beach and fell quickly asleep.

He was up at dawn, as usual, but he was not to be rewarded with a view of a sunrise over the ocean, for it had started raining sometime during the night. He shivered as he threw off the top cover of his bedroll and quickly put on the warm haori Baiko had given him. He peeked out from under his shelter and scouted the beach. He knew that a gentle rain at dawn on a cool autumn day was a good time to catch fish, and he didn't want to be found by any conscientious fisherman. As soon as he assured himself that no one was about, he gathered up his belongings, put on the hat Ikuko had given him, and took the path back up to the top of the cliff. During his two brief forays into the city, he had determined that the bulk of the city lay to the east of the shrine, so he decided to head west instead, keeping to the forest along the cliff's edge. When the trees gave way to buildings, he jumped up onto the nearest roof and continued his trek from there. It wasn't long before the buildings, too, petered out and he was free of the city. The road leading into the countryside was practically deserted in the rain, which suited him fine. He was wet, he was cold, but it could have been much worse.

The rain finally let up shortly after midday, so he stopped near an outcropping of boulders and sat down to eat. Then the sun came out, and he opened his bedroll and stretched out on it to soak in the warmth of its rays. Now that he was well away from any danger, he realized he had no idea where he would go next, although he knew where he didn't want to go. Orinosuke, he was sure, would tell every living soul he met that he had found the Hitokiri Battousai, and that was bound to attract revenge-seekers, even in as patriotic a province as Satsuma. So, going south through Satsuma was out of the question. He gave brief thought to going back north the way he had come, but winter was fast approaching, and he wanted to be in the south before the cold weather hit. And what lay to the west? The province his name was most closely associated with but which he had never really seen—Choushu. He had only been there once briefly as a boy, when he was with the Kiheitai. Maybe now was the time to see what the province of Katsura Kogoro was really like.

He must have dozed off while he was thinking for he awoke with a start at the sound of voices and footsteps coming closer. He sat up abruptly to find himself facing three rather disreputable-looking ronin. Time was he would have quickly stood and placed his hand threateningly over the hilt of his sword, but this time he didn't. What was it Baiko kept telling him to do? Just smile so they won't ask questions? He plastered a vacant smile on his face.

"Oi! You there!" One of the ronin kicked his leg. "Tell us how to get to the Takahashi farm."

Kenshin just smiled back stupidly.

"Oi, I'm talking to you!" the ronin repeated, kicking Kenshin harder this time.

Kenshin just smiled some more. "Oro?" he said.

Now the ronin drew his sword and pointed it threateningly. "You'll tell me where that farm is or you'll be tasting this sword instead of your lunch!"

"Sessha is just a rurouni, that he is," Kenshin said as he plastered yet another silly smile on his face.

The ronin stared, then turned to his comrades and said, "Huh, must be the village idiot. Let's go."

Yes, he had definitely learned a lot during his time with the kabuki troupe, Kenshin mused as he watched the ronin disappear harmlessly down the road. Survival skills, that's what it was—the art of fending off an enemy by putting on an act. He laughed out loud at the incongruity of it all—the feared Hitokiri Battousai as a village idiot. God, it felt good to laugh again, especially at himself! He gathered up his bedroll and travel bag now, his destination decided. Then, turning his face towards the sun, he headed west for Choushu.

Japanese Terms:

Boshin War: a rebellion against the new government that raged from 1868-1869, primarily in Aizu and Hokkaido.  
Okubo Toshimichi: one of the leading Satsuma Ishin Shishi leaders and now one of the highest-ranking members of the new government.  
Ishin Shishi: the anti-shogunate rebels during the Bakumatsu.  
haori: warm overcoat.  
engawa: porch.  
go: a game of strategy that has been described as being like four chess games going on together on the same board.  
Kinmon no Hen: the storming of the Imperial Palace by Choushu forces in 1864.  
ougi: the succession technique of a sword style.  
wakizashi: short sword.  
Kiheitai: a private army in Choushu created by Takasugi Shinsaku at the very beginning of the Bakumatsu. It was made up of commoners rather than samurai.  
ronin: masterless samurai.

**Author's Note:** I don't know about other writers, but sometimes a story comes to me not in chronological order. I may be writing the beginning, but if the ending suddenly pops into my head, I have to get it on paper right away. That's what happened with this story. No sooner did the idea come to me of Kenshin learning his 'oro-ness' from a kabuki troupe than the notion of Kenshin as the village idiot came to me, along with the idea that at the end of this story, he'd wander off to a province I figured he had never been to—Choushu. According to the manga, after Tomoe's death, Katsura asks Kenshin to return to Kyoto as a 'mobile attacker' to protect the Ishin Shishi there from the constant attacks by Bakufu forces. I took that to mean Kenshin was deployed only in the Kyoto area until the shogunate fell. I also figured that as a rurouni, he might have wanted to avoid Choushu because of the likelihood of running into former Choushu soldiers who would recognize him. Of course, I thought about all this long before Omasuoniwabanshi wrote her excellent _The Choshu Chronicles_, and after reading that marvelous fic, how could anybody _not_ assume that Kenshin was in Choushu during the Bakumatsu? Co-C. and Omasuoniwabanshi both, however, encouraged me to stick with my original ending, and so I did.

By the way, you will find no mention of Kenshin's friend Yoshida in the manga or anime—he was my creation in _Descent into Madness_ and appears here merely to make Co-C. happy (she's never forgiven me for originally planning to kill him off when I wrote that story).

As I noted at the end of Chapter 11, I have been convinced to write an epilogue for this story, so keep an eye out for it (with luck, it _won't_ take two months!).

To my wonderful reviewers: Thank you all so much for encouraging me throughout this story. There are times when I am consumed with self-doubt, especially after reading certain truly outstanding fanfics. Then I read your comments and am convinced that maybe my efforts are still worthwhile and that I should continue. A long way of saying, you don't know how important your comments and criticisms are to me! So, even though this list is nearly as long as a short one-shot, let me say thanks to every one of my reviewers for sticking with me through illness, injury, and the occasional writers' block:

Calger 459, Haku Baikou, Bishounen Hunter, BakaBokken, Hitokiri oro-chan, PraiseDivineMercy, Hitokiri of the Bloodless Moon, Maeve Riannon, beriath, koe 760, Shimizu Hitomi, Cattibrie393, Ayumi Ikari, Lucrecia Le Vrai, Audi Daudi, Miranda Crystal-Bearer, Wistful-Eyes, ESP, Arcueid, Corran Nackatori, Marissa Willems, Hitokiri-san,Toilet Marauder, TawnyBaka, AmunRa, MisaoShiru, November Dusk, zig-zag, Cetsunai, dark sapphire, Steffel, Baru-chan, iceblazingpheonix, wyrd, curiosicat, sasha, Ayashi1, LadyBattousai456, Neko Oni-chan, laial, audra no baka, tatk1, lilmatchgirl007, De Lazy Lime, Melissa, daniel-gudman, Kaloo, Terry McElrath, Methodic Madness, Darkening Dreams, anime kirei, chibi rurouni, Romm, Darkening Dreams, Silenced Doves, Mara Roberts, lotus-chan, Tazzy, KQL Moony, Sasha, Lady Adania Ebonsong, tomboy101, louiseoblique, Maldoror1, moeru himura, Silver Warrior, Ligar Zero X, lolo popoki, nightcrawler, Night-Owl 123, Hitokiri Battousai214, Amant de Mort, Hidari Keito, Wingstar-chan, pyramidgirl189, benignintent, scented candles, Wildkat137, peacebunnie, Chibi Binasu-chan, Shauntell, TattleTale, Sailor-Earth13, Switchblade237, Lady of Contradiction, skenshingumi, Rekkaboziegirl, Ranuel, keishiko, Crystal Snowflakes, darksaphire, sueb262, dave, rurouni kitsune, starry, Misaki-toyodome, and Snarling Demoness.

**Co-Conspirator's Note:** Wow! Are we at the end already? Every time I read this, I get this weird sense of deja vu, since Daisuke's conversation with Kenshin in this chapter was the first thing I read of this story over a year ago. Looking back, the plot has certainly undergone a massive revision. When we originally started this, I seem to remember it was going to be, oh, all of four chapters—hah!—and would focus mainly on Kenshin's interactions with Mayako, who was supposed to develop a crush on Kenshin and send Orinosuke into fits of jealousy (I threw that idea out pretty fast, thank goodness!—C.). Baiko hardly existed, and there was no Byako or Bunjiro, just a lot of little children running all over the place. Whoa… that was a long time ago!

I like this story, and I'm going to miss it. What will I do when I can't poke fun at Kenshin's masculinity (or lack thereof) anymore? I hope you guys had as much fun as I did. Ah, but don't despair, there is the scent of an epilogue in the wind! And so:

Epilogue: Stuff happens that most likely concerns Kenshin, but we're keeping it a deep, dark secret, meaning we don't know yet what's going to happen. (Oh, yes I do!—C.) (Sure, that's what you said at the beginning of this story, and look what happened!) See you there!


	13. Chapter 13

Seven years have passed since Kenshin's stay with the Daisuke family, and much has changed, both for Kenshin and for the family.

Just so you know who's who in this story:

Daisuke: Grandfather  
Ikuko: Daisuke's wife, Grandmother  
First Uncle: Ryosuke  
Second Uncle: Ennosuke

Thanks one last time to all the copyright holders for not suing me for writing a piece of fanfiction.

An Unexpected Lesson

By

Conspirator

Epilogue

The year was 1878, but it might as well have been 1864, considering the gossip that was making the rounds of Kyoto this June. "The Hitokiri Battousai is back!" went one rumor. "The Hitokiri Battousai has assassinated someone!" went another. "The Hitokiri Battousai is dead!" went a third.

"Well, I know for a fact that that last rumor is right," said a grimly smiling Orinosuke V, one of the greatest—some would say _the_ greatest—dramatic actors in all of Kyoto. "Let him rot in hell, where he belongs."

"Husband!" his wife Mayako exclaimed, a warning in her voice.

And so another pleasant mealtime began at the Kawayama household. This was the sixth summer that Bunjiro and his brother Byako had made the trek from Kagoshima to Kyoto to live with their parents. Ever since that fateful trip to Miyazaki seven years earlier, when Orinosuke had angrily moved back to Kyoto, the boys spent October through April of every year studying the family kabuki traditions in Kagoshima. Then they would take a boat to Kyoto to spend the summer months with their parents.

It had been difficult, to say the least, for Bunjiro. His father had always been a stern man, but after the move, he had become downright unpleasant. His break with the family he blamed on the old Ishin Shishi revolutionaries, who, as he so frequently ranted, had ruined Kyoto during the Bakumatsu for good law-abiding citizens like himself. Why, if it hadn't been for their blood-thirsty ways, he continually reminded everyone, the family never would have had to leave the city in the first place! And who was the poster boy for all that blood-letting? None other than that strange wanderer who had come into their lives that autumn of 1871—Himura Kenshin, the Hitokiri Battousai.

Of course, they didn't know right away that he was the Hitokiri Battousai, though Orinosuke always told everyone that _he_ knew right off the bat the man was dangerous, not that anyone listened to him. But to Bunjiro, and to a lesser extent Byako as well, Kenshin had been a friend, that rare adult who treated them not as mere children, but as valued human beings. Orinosuke knew this and despised Bunjiro for it. It was only in the last two years, as Bunjiro had started coming into his own as an actor, that the relationship between father and son had calmed down somewhat.

But now his father's ranting and raving had reached new heights. Only a few days earlier, there had been a huge explosion on Mt. Hiei. It had happened right in the middle of a performance—it had ruined one of his father's most famous soliloquies, in fact—and when his father heard that it had something to do with the Hitokiri Battousai, he went ballistic.

"How do you he's dead?" Byako protested. He had never forgotten how Kenshin had saved him from breaking his neck when he was nine. "Maybe he survived! Maybe he wasn't even there at all! Maybe he's not the monster you think he is!"

Orinosuke glared malevolently at his younger son. "I know it's true because I heard it from the man who sold the sheet metal to build that factory up there. His customer was just an honest businessman, he said, but apparently that's not good enough for the Hitokiri Battousai. Oh, no, only an assassination was good enough for _him_. Well, this is one assassination that backfired on him, that's for sure."

Bunjiro pushed his bowl away and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Orinosuke snapped.

"I've lost my appetite," Bunjiro snapped back.

Bunjiro stormed off to find some peace and quiet. Was Kenshin really dead, he wondered? He had secretly idolized Himura Kenshin for the past seven years. Never had he met anyone quite like him. No one had ever considered him capable of anything important before, but Kenshin had actually entrusted him with the safety of the entire family during that nerve-wracking trip through the mountains. And certainly no one had ever treated him almost as an equal before, as Kenshin had. It had hurt him terribly when Kenshin left, not least because his own father had such a large hand in forcing Kenshin's sudden departure, and he had sworn that very day that if it took the rest of his life, he would find Kenshin again to thank him for coming into his life. Well, now he had found him, almost, but it was too late. He felt tears coming to his eyes, which embarrassed him no end considering he was now a man of nineteen. He turned away as he heard his mother come after him. He didn't want her to see his weakness.

"First Son," she said sternly.

He stepped further away. His mother loved him, he knew, but she was a stiff-necked, prideful woman who placed more importance on appearances than on what was right.

"First Son," she said again, but this time her voice was somewhat kinder. "I know how you feel about the Hitokiri Battousai. I never liked the man myself, but I cannot deny that he saved your brother once and that he saved the rest of us from those ruthless yakuza."

"So?"

"So, it may be that your father's information is not accurate. It sometimes isn't. But I happen to know of someone who might know for sure. I know it sounds strange, but it's our greengrocer. Your father doesn't think much of him, but I've found over the years that he's rarely wrong."

"The greengrocer? That old gossip Ko?"

"First Son, make a trip tomorrow to the greengrocer. Ask him outright. If he says the Hitokiri Battousai is dead, then believe it."

Bunjiro turned around and quickly hugged his mother. "Thank you," he said with heartfelt gratitude. "I'll do that."

And that's how Bunjiro, the heartthrob of Kyoto's younger kabuki-goers, found himself the next day surrounded by squealing females as he tried to do the family food shopping. He handed out card after card of his likeness, signed autograph after autograph, but finally had to be rescued by one of the greengrocer's assistants, who managed to grab his elbow and pull him into the store.

"Well, if it isn't our young actor friend!" the greengrocer, Ko, bellowed. He pounded Bunjiro on the back. "Well, well, well! And what can I get for you today? Daikon? We have some lovely daikon, fresh from Fushimi! And red lettuce—ah, you haven't seen red lettuce until you've seen this!"

"Ko-san…," Bunjiro said, but Ko kept on going.

"Ko-san!" Bunjiro tried again, finally pulling a bag of sweet potatoes from Ko's hands to get him to stop. "I'll take the potatoes, some string beans, and the daikon, okay?"

Ko beamed. "And a wise choice that is, too!" He fumbled about for a string bag to put everything in, then handed it to Bunjiro. "Anything else?"

Bunjiro hesitated. How to do this, he wondered…. "Well, there is one more thing," he said. "You know that explosion the other day on Mt. Hiei? I was wondering…."

"Oh, the explosion," Ko said in a conspiratorial whisper. He grabbed the neckline of Bunjiro's kimono and pulled him closer. "I have it on good authority that there was a secret munitions factory up on Mt. Hiei, that some madman up there was plotting to overthrow the government!"

"You don't say," Bunjiro said, hoping for more. He wasn't disappointed.

"In fact," Ko went on, "I have it on good authority that the government was so worried, they sent not only for an ex-Shinsengumi captain to take the man down, but also the Hitokiri Battousai himself! Can you imagine that? The Shinsengumi and the Ishin Shishi working together!"

Bunjiro's heart clenched. So, his mother was right—this man knew. "So what happened?" he asked, hoping against hope for a good answer.

"Well," Ko continued after looking around to make sure no one else was listening, "they say the Shinsengumi captain disappeared in the explosion, but the Hitokiri Battousai didn't. I know some say he's dead, but he's not! They brought in some lady doctor from Tokyo who brought him back from the brink, and he's alive right here in Kyoto even as we speak!"

Bunjiro's breath caught. Kenshin was alive! "Do you know where?" he asked.

Ko looked left and right again, then said, "At a restaurant called the Shirobeko. A fellow I know is helping rebuild this other inn that got destroyed the same day as the explosion, and he heard it there."

Bunjiro stood up straight again and pulled out his purse to pay for his groceries. "Ko-san, thank you so much for everything!" and he gave the man double what the groceries cost.

"Hey, you paid too much!" Ko called after him as he left, but Bunjiro just waved and said, "Keep it!"

It didn't take long for Bunjiro to find out the location of the Shirobeko. One of his father's stagehands was a rowdy man about town who knew the location of every restaurant, gambling hall, and brothel in Kyoto, and he knew exactly where the Shirobeko was. Boring place, he called it, which probably meant that the waitresses refused to fall straight into bed with him.

However, it was a week before Bunjiro could act on this information, and so he had to take great pains to hide his impatience from his father. This was not easy, as he was spending many hours of each day under his father's tutelage. This was the year when he would be performing his first leading role, as the sinister priest Seishin in _Izayoi Seishin_, and although he had already learned the role at the family acting school in Kagoshima, everyone had agreed that he should refine his technique by studying it with his father. To be given a chance to perform this difficult role at the tender age of nineteen was an enormous privilege, and if it went well enough, he would probably be in line within a year to advance to a new family name. He couldn't afford to blow it .

Finally, the break he had been hoping for came in his training and performance schedule, and he hurriedly made plans to sneak off during the rare afternoon lull. Only Byako knew of his plan to find Kenshin, although he had a hunch his mother suspected. This time out, he wasn't taking any chances on getting mobbed by fans—if his father heard about this outing, there would be hell to pay. So, he grabbed his newest purchase, a western-style fedora hat, and pulled it low over his head. And so, with his brother to cover for him, he disappeared from the theater shortly after lunch to make his way to the little restaurant located on the northern end of town.

Given the stagehand's description of the place, Bunjiro figured the Shirobeko would be a drab, not very unusual little place, but when he got there, he found a young boy fiercely practicing what looked like kenjutsu kata right in front of the doorway. He looked at the paper in his hand to make sure he had followed the stagehand's directions properly, then looked back at the building's sign. It said 'Shirobeko,' all right, but why in the world would someone be practicing kenjutsu in front of a restaurant? Then he noticed the boy eyeing him. He bowed slightly to the boy and said, "Is this the place where Himura Kenshin is staying?"

The boy tensed. "What's it to you?" the boy replied rudely.

The boy's attitude put Bunjiro off just a little, but he answered politely, "I'm an old friend of his. I was hoping to see him."

Suddenly, the boy took what looked like a battoujutsu stance. "A friend, eh?" the boy said menacingly. "I know all about Kenshin's so-called 'friends.' Psychos, every one of them!"

"Psychos? You don't seem to understand…," Bunjiro tried to say, but the boy just hunkered down lower.

"If you think you're gonna get a piece of Kenshin," the boy continued defiantly, "then you'll have to fight me first! I am Myojin Yahiko, Tokyo Samurai, who single-handedly defeated the fearsome Hennya of the Juppongatana, so you'd just better…!"

Suddenly, an arm shot out from the Shirobeko's interior and latched onto the back of the boy's gi. "Hey, let go!" Yahiko yelped as he felt himself dangling from the end of tall man's long arm.

"Heh, don't mind him," the man said. "He's just a little overwrought. Right, Yahiko-_chan_?"

"Don't call me –chan!" Yahiko shot back. "And for your information, Sano, this guy's looking for Kenshin, and you know what that means!"

The man put Yahiko down. "Kenshin, huh?"

Bunjiro quickly regained his composure, removed his hat to make himself look more friendly, and said, "Yes. I'm an old friend of his. Is he here?"

"Depends on who's asking," Sano replied cautiously.

Bunjiro began to have second thoughts about his quest. These people apparently had the wrong idea about him, and he didn't want to start any fights.

"Forgive me if my inquiry has caused you any distress," he finally said. "It's just that I knew Kenshin-san when I was a young boy—about your brother's age—and I was hoping that I could see him again. Perhaps I should be going…."

"Brother? I'm not his brother!" Yahiko started to protest, but Sano stopped him with a quick fist to the head.

"Well, that does put things in a slightly different light," Sano said carefully. "See, Kenshin's been…a bit under the weather recently. In fact, this is the first day he's been up and about, and he's pretty tired. I'll go see if he's up to visitors. What did you say your name was?"

"Kawayama Bunjiro," Bunjiro said. "Just tell him that."

"Kawayama Bunjiro, eh? Hmph, never heard him mention you, but…." Sano shrugged, then turned to Yahiko and said softly, "Keep an eye on this guy while I check with Kenshin, okay?"

Yahiko planted his feet and crossed his arms, shinai at the ready. "You bet," he said.

This left Bunjiro standing there rather uncomfortably, especially as he took in the tall man's heavily bandaged fist and the kanji on the back of his jacket. 'Evil,' it said. What in the world had he gotten himself into, Bunjiro wondered, although he had to admit he was intrigued by this Sano character. Outwardly, the man seemed rather carefree, but just under the surface he could sense a kind of danger radiating from him. It was exactly that knife's-edge distance between the two that he had been trying so hard to learn for his role as the sinister priest in _Izayoi Seishin_. If only he could spend some time observing this man….

"Hey, what're you staring at?" the boy demanded.

Bunjiro smiled. Maybe a friendly conversation would defuse the situation, he decided, so he said, "You know, I was about your age when I met Kenshin-san. He's the one who taught me how to hold a sword."

Yahiko stopped in mid-swing. "Kenshin taught _you_ how to hold a sword?" He frowned, then said dejectedly, "Geez, he refuses to teach me anything."

"He does? Well, I'm sure he has a very good reason for that," Bunjiro started to say, but then Sano came back out.

"Hey, Sano!" Yahiko shouted to the older man. "He says Kenshin taught him how to hold a sword. He's never taught _me_ how to hold a sword!"

"Maybe that's because you're a jerk and this guy isn't," Sano retorted as he quickly jumped out of range of Yahiko's shinai. Then, turning to Bunjiro, he said, "It seems Kenshin does know who you are, and he says to bring you on through. Follow me."

Bunjiro bowed, skirted Yahiko and his shinai, then followed Sano into the restaurant. Yahiko brought up the rear. "Just remember," Yahiko muttered to him darkly, "no funny business, or you'll face my shinai."

It was only a short walk from the front entrance to the garden where Kenshin was, but Bunjiro's mind raced a mile a minute the whole time. Now that he had finally found Kenshin, what was he going to say? For seven years he had idolized this man, had defended his name against all those who invoked him as some kind of curse, and all because of what? A life-altering five days in a boy's life? It would sound ridiculous.

He was torn from his thoughts as Sano stopped before the doorway to the garden, almost causing Bunjiro to bump into him. "He's straight through there," Sano said, "but first I need to ask…." Bunjiro sensed a sudden, subtle shift in Sano's voice. "How'd you know where to find us?"

There was that knife's-edge distance again between carefree and dangerous, Bunjiro noted clinically. His answer, he had a feeling, would determine the quality of his meeting with Kenshin. Using his best conversational tone, he replied evenly, "Our greengrocer Ko happened to mention it."

"Greengrocer!"

Sano and Yahiko exchanged shocked glances. "You mean to tell me even some _greengrocer_ knows where to find Kenshin!" Sano sputtered.

"Well, so much for the Oniwabanshuu and their secrecy," Yahiko muttered darkly. "This wouldn't happen in Toyko, that's for sure."

"Don't mention them in public, you idiot!" Sano hissed in Yahiko's ear. Then, turning on a smile, he said to Bunjiro, "Well, go on out there, I guess," and he and Yahiko stood aside to let Bunjiro through.

Bunjiro nodded, then opened the shoji and strode through to the garden. His heart was pounding a mile a minute in anticipation, but it nearly stopped at the sight that greeted him. It was Kenshin, all right, but a Kenshin who was excruciatingly thin, pale, and drawn. A young woman in a blue smock was helping to adjust his loose kimono around his shoulders, but before she could, Bunjiro saw that nearly his entire torso was covered in bandages. On what little of his chest was left exposed, there was what looked like a terrible, oozy burn, and on either side of his neck were long red gashes. No one had suggested to him that Kenshin had been so badly injured. Maybe his coming hadn't been such a good idea after all….

"Bunjiro-san!" he heard Kenshin call out to him. The voice was weak. "It's been a long time since we saw each other last. You've certainly grown since then!"

Bunjiro tore is eyes away from Kenshin's injuries to his face and saw with relief that familiar, gentle smile. Then Kenshin tried to stand, a slight hiss of pain escaping his lips. When Bunjiro saw that the woman had to help him up, he hurried forward to lend a hand.

"Please, Kenshin-san, don't stand on my account," Bunjiro said quickly, but his way was blocked suddenly by Sano and Yahiko, who placed themselves protectively in front of Kenshin. Yahiko's shinai, he noted, was drawn once again.

"Sano, Yahiko, it's okay," Kenshin said softly. "Bunjiro-san poses no threat." The two muttered something under their breath, then let him through to sit next to Kenshin.

"Megumi-dono, Sano, Yahiko, this is Kawayama Bunjiro," Kenshin continued as if nothing had happened. "Sessha lived with his family for a short time many years ago."

"Oho," Megumi chortled as she bowed, "there's someone from your past who _isn't_ dangerous? So pleased to meet you!"

Bunjiro bowed back to her, then to Sano and Yahiko. It was such a pleasure to be greeted like a normal human being for once, instead of being mobbed by squealing fans.

"So, what'd Kenshin do for your family when he lived with you?" Yahiko asked, now that he realized this stranger was on the up and up. "Cooking? Laundry? That kind of thing?"

Cooking and laundry? What a strange notion, Bunjiro thought. "Oh, no," he started to say, but before he could finish, Sae emerged from the Shirobeko bearing a tray with tea. She took one look at Bunjiro and dropped the whole thing.

"No! I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" she stammered. "It's… it's… Uwaaa! It's Shinosuke II! Misao-chan, Misao-chan, come quick! It's Shinosuke II, and he's right here in my garden!" And suddenly she was at Bunjiro's feet, bowing and grabbing the hem of his kimono, saying, "Oh, Shinosuke-sama! I am so honored to have your presence at my restaurant!"

Megumi, Sano, and Yahiko looked at each other in confusion. Megumi reached down to tap Sae's shoulder and said, "Sae-san, I believe you're mistaken. This man's name is Kawayama Bunjiro, not Shinosuke."

Sae looked up, tears of happiness in her eyes. "Oh, no, Megumi-sensei, you don't understand! This is Shinosuke II, the hottest young actor in Kyoto!" and she proceeded to continue with her bowing.

Shinosuke II? Kenshin's gaze clouded over. His mind was still a bit slow after the all the concussions he had sustained in the fight with Shishio, but he was sure he had heard that name somewhere before. He closed his eyes as he searched his memory. Suddenly, in his mind, he heard a voice say, "Husband has created a stage name for you—Shinosuke I. You like it?" It was Ikuko who had said that to him, just before his first performance. His eyes opened with a start. Bunjiro had taken the name created for Kenshin as his own stage name? He looked over quizzically at Bunjiro, who was blushing profusely at Sae's fawning attention.

"Gomen, gomen nasai," Bunjiro was saying to the rest of them. "It's an occupational hazard, I'm afraid." He reached into his chest pouch to retrieve a card illustrated with his picture. He signed it and gave it to Sae.

By this point, Misao had arrived, and when she saw who it was, she, too screamed "Uwaaaa!" and started running out to meet him. Sano, however, pulled her back by her braid.

"Oww!" she screeched. "Let go!" but Sano reeled her in.

"Listen, weasel girl," he growled in her ear, "don't you wanna know how this actor guy knew where to find Kenshin?"

Misao stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn't thought of that.

"He says some greengrocer told him were to find us," he continued. "Doesn't that worry you just the slightest little bit?"

In fact, it did. Just the day before, she had told Sano the news that remnants of Shishio's army, who had initially dispersed after the explosion, were known to be filtering back into Kyoto. Her spies were at that very moment trying to find out what their intentions were.

"A greengrocer, huh?" she finally said. She tapped her foot in annoyance. "And I'll bet I know exactly who it is, too—that blabbermouth Ko, down in the central part of the city." She looked over wistfully at Bunjiro and Sae, wishing she could meet this famous hunk and get an autographed card, too, but she was the okashira now. This was no time to get all gooey-eyed and weak-kneed over a handsome young actor.

"I'd better take this up with Okina," she sighed. Then, as she walked back inside, Sano heard her mutter, "Boy, are Okon and Omasu gonna be jealous when they hear what they missed!"

Hearts were now streaming from Sae's eyes as she clutched the autographed card to her chest. Pouring out thousands of arigatou's, she turned back to the restaurant, only to realize that she had a terrible mess to clean up. She slipped the card into her sleeve pocket, then started pouring out thousands of gomen's as she picked up the tray and the shattered tea service. "I'll bring more tea out right away," she promised apologetically.

"Geesh, what's wrong with her?" Yahiko muttered disgustedly.

"I'm really sorry about that," Bunjiro said somewhat sheepishly. "That seems to be happening more and more these days."

Kenshin chuckled as he remembered his own brief run-in with unruly kabuki fans all those years ago. He had found it almost terrifying in its own way, but he had something more important on his mind now than crazed kabuki fans. As soon as everyone had calmed down sufficiently, he turned to Bunjiro and said, "Your name—you took the name Shinosuke?"

Bunjiro smiled. "Kenshin-san, there's so much I want to tell you, but now that I'm here, I hardly know where to start! When I turned sixteen, just a few months before Grandfather died, they wanted to give me the name Ryosuke because of my acrobatic abilities and because I was dabbling with playwriting…."

"Daisuke-san has died?" Kenshin gasped. Such a kind man, he remembered. And what was this about Ryosuke? If Ryosuke's name was being passed on, did that mean he, too, had died?

"….but I insisted on taking your name," Bunjiro continued as if he didn't hear. "I told them it was because I was doing so well at kenjutsu as well as acrobatics, and you had that combination, too, but really it was because of everything you did for me when you were with us. Father practically disowned me for even suggesting it, but Grandfather thought it was a great idea and forced him to agree. I just hope I can bring enough luster to the name that someone else will want to take it up someday."

"Sessha doesn't quite understand," Kenshin started to say. What had he had done for Bunjiro? All he could remember was telling him rather forcefully not to become a soldier.

"What, Kenshin, you don't like the name or something?" Sano chuckled as he took in Kenshin's perplexed look. "Almost sounds like _my_ name, and that's pretty damned good, if you ask me! But why change your name at all?" he asked Bunjiro. "The name you've got sounds like a good actor's name to me."

Megumi sighed exasperatedly. "Sano, don't you know anything? Actors belong to acting dynasties, and they all take names of famous ancestors. Isn't that right, Kawayama-san—or should I say Shinosuke-san?"

"No, no, please just call me Bunjiro," Bunjiro laughed. "The thing is, Shinosuke was never the name of any of our ancestors. It was made up seven years ago for Kenshin-san, when he filled in for my second uncle. So, technically it wasn't one of the family names at all…."

He didn't get to finish his sentence, however, as three pairs of eyes suddenly became riveted on Kenshin.

"Wait a minute," Sano cut in. "Are you saying Kenshin was an actor once?"

Now, this was something truly unbelievable. Sano turned to Kenshin, whose face was completely inscrutible at the moment and said, "Exactly what aren't telling us here?"

Kenshin put on the most clueless look he could muster and said, "Sessha did help out Bunjiro-san's family once or twice, but that was a long time ago."

Now Megumi was staring hard into Kenshin's eyes. Given his weakened condition, she knew he was not so adept at hiding things as he normally was; now she was sure he was trying to hide something. "Oro?" was the only response she got to her unspoken query. So, she turned to Bunjiro and asked in a suspiciously sweet way, "And why, pray tell, would your family need Ken-san to fill in for your uncle?"

Kenshin may have been weak, but not so weak that he didn't know what would happen if certain of his friends found out what he did for Bunjiro's family. He started to say, "Sessha only helped fix a broken leg," but Bunjiro beat him to it. He sighed resignedly as he heard Bunjiro start to tell the tale.

"Well, you see," Bunjiro began, "we were traveling through the mountains to Miyazaki the summer I was twelve to give a command performance for the governor, when our wagon overturned and broke my uncle's leg. That's when Kenshin-san happened along. He saved my uncle's life that day, but the problem was that my uncle was our onnagata for the summer, and everyone else in the family was too tall to fit in his costumes except for Kenshin-san. So, First Uncle taught him how to play an onnagata, and he did the show. He left us right after that."

There was deafening silence as three pairs of eyes drifted once again towards Kenshin. "Say what?" Sano managed in disbelief.

Little fox ears sprang up on Megumi's head. "Ken-san," she said in that strangely sing-song voice that seemed so uniquely hers, "you've been holding something back from us all this time, haven't you. An onnagata, you say, Bunjiro-san? Why, Ken-san, you have talents we never dreamed of!"

Kenshin blushed a faint pink—somewhat of a feat, considering how weak he was. "Sessha only did it twice," he admitted reluctantly.

Suddenly, Sano and Yahiko were both rolling on the ground laughing hysterically. "No wonder you never told us about this part of your life!" Yahiko managed between laughs. "I mean, you're pretty short and scrawny anyway, but a girlie man!"

"Sessha is not scrawny!" Kenshin protested, trying to stand in his own defense, but he moved too quickly. A stab of pain from the wound in his side forced him to sit back down.

"Well," Sano managed to gasp out between laughs, "you do have the build for it!"

"Actually," Bunjiro said, enjoying the humor of the situation, "I'm told that some farmer who saw Kenshin-san on stage proposed to him."

That set the two off into even greater gales of laughter. Now Yahiko started imitating a flirty, giggling girl, while Sano play-acted a love-besotted farmer.

"So, Kenshin, what was it that turned the men on?" Sano continued, barely containing his laughter." Your girlish figure?"

"Sano!" Kenshin's voice may have been weak, but there was warning in there somewhere.

"Heh, don't worry, Kenshin, you don't have the right equipment to interest me!" Sano guffawed, causing Yahiko to laugh all the harder.

Kenshin blushed again, but truth be told, he was enjoying what was going on around him. After the trauma of his fight on Mt. Hiei, it felt good to hear the laughter and joking of his friends, even if it was at his expense. He started laughing with the rest of them, unconsciously holding his side as he did.

Megumi noticed. The doctor in her kicked in as she noted the fleeting wince that crossed Kenshin's face and the somewhat strained sound in his laughter. He was still way too weak for her liking, even after all these days of rest. Perhaps she could kill two birds with one stone here—relieving the current cause of his pain while beginning to strengthen him at the same time. So she smiled coquettishly at Kenshin and said, "Perhaps Bunjiro-san might be willing to escort you around the garden so we can see your onnagata technique for ourselves."

Kenshin stopped laughing, as she knew he would, thus relieving the pain in his side. "Megumi-dono," he said, that warning tone rising up just a notch.

"Well, Ken-san, you do need to start walking some, now that I've allowed you out of bed, and I'm sure we would all like to know what kind of onnagata you make…."

"Yeah, Kenshin, we'd sure like to know!" Sano chimed in.

Whatever hesitations Kenshin may have had about trying to stand again vanished quickly. Continuing to hold his side, he slowly started to raise himself up, pushing away Megumi's proffered hand and Sano's offer of assistance.

"Sessha can do this himself!" he insisted. The smile of triumph that crossed his face as he succeeded, for Megumi, was worth everything. "Bunjiro-san?" Kenshin now said, indicating that he was ready to walk.

Bunjiro stood to join him and offered his elbow, but Kenshin refused it, and the two started walking side by side around the small garden.

"So," Bunjiro said after they had taken a few steps, "is this your family?"

"My what?" a startled Kenshin answered. "Oh, no," he laughed once he regained his composure, "not my family—just friends! They came from Tokyo to help this one. Megumi-dono is a doctor, Sano is—well, Sano just is, and Yahiko is an orphan that Kaoru-dono, my…landlady…has taken in. You haven't met Kaoru-dono yet. She's helping repair an inn that was damaged during…."

Kenshin hesitated. He hadn't spoken much with anyone yet about what happened that day he battled Shishio. He wasn't sure he was ready to. "She runs her father's dojo, that she does, and she's been teaching Yahiko," he finished.

But then he started thinking. Maybe his friends were a kind of family, maybe more of a family than he ever remembered having before. Sano and Yahiko? They were like brothers to him, weren't they? And Megumi was certainly the teasing sister he never had.

And Kaoru? He stopped walking as he thought back to the night he left Tokyo for what he assumed would be forever. It had been so hard that night to say goodbye to Kaoru. Merely his landlady? Who was he kidding?

"Kenshin-san, are you alright?" a worried Bunjiro asked. "Do you need to sit down?"

Kenshin smiled. "No, no, sessha's fine—it's just that you've made me realize something." Then, to ease Bunjiro's concern, he slowly started walking again and changed the subject. "Your grandfather, Daisuke-san—you say he died?"

Bunjiro sighed. "So much has happened since you left us, Kenshin-san. It was three years ago, during a performance of _The Forty-Seven Ronin_. Grandfather and First Uncle were doing the climactic scene when suddenly Grandfather clutched his chest and collapsed. I was on stage, too, playing one of the secondary characters, and Uncle and I raced to his side, but he was already gone."

"Sessha is so sorry to hear it," Kenshin started, but Bunjiro said, "Don't be sorry. Grandfather died doing what he loved best. We were devastated, of course, but we all agreed that was a much better way to go than getting sick and having to retire." Bunjiro sighed, then added, "The governor insisted on a state funeral for him, you know. It's the only time Father ever came back to Kagoshima."

Kenshin became lost in thought at this news. He remembered Daisuke so well. He remembered that unusual combination of power and kindness that seemed to be such an essential part of Daisuke's nature. He remembered how those elements showed themselves in that the riveting performance he had watched Daisuke give in that small hamlet. He remembered the compassion Daisuke had shown him when Orinosuke confronted them all with the truth of Kenshin's identity. The world had lost a great man, he decided.

"And your grandmother?" Kenshin continued, remembering Ikuko's many kindnesses during his short stay with the family. "She hasn't…."

"No, she's just fine," Bunjiro chuckled. "I think it'll take more than the death of her husband to slow Grandmother down. She's really something, isn't she. No sooner was the funeral over than she called everyone together and basically gave all of us our marching orders. 'We have lost our guiding light,' she told us, 'but that doesn't mean this family is through!' So, we had our mourning period, and when it was over, she made sure we came back just as strong—maybe even stronger—than ever. But she absolutely refused to give Father the name of Daisuke, even though my uncles thought he should have it."

"Because of what happened that fall in Miyazaki?" Kenshin asked.

Bunjiro shook his head yes. "She's still very bitter, even though my uncles have forgiven him somewhat. Father, of course, has never forgiven any of them, especially when they went on to inherit new names and he didn't. He felt even back when you were with us that it was time for Grandfather to step down as head of the family and bestow the name of Daisuke on him. Some other kabuki families do that—when one of the sons reaches a certain stature, the patriarch relinquishes the great name and gives it to that son—but Grandfather never believed in that."

"Oh, so _both_ your uncles received new names!" Kenshin said with relief. "Sessha thought, when you said the name of Ryosuke was to be given to you, that something had happened to him!"

"Oh, no! Far from it!" Bunjiro laughed. "I know it's confusing, but the uncle you knew as Ryosuke is now Saemonosuke VII—a great honor. See, there were three brothers who started our dynasty two hundred years ago—Daisuke, Saemonosuke, and Orinosuke. The first Saemonosuke was a great comedian as well as a great dramatic actor—a perfect fit for First Uncle, don't you think? No one's had that name for over twenty years because the previous Saemonosuke, Grandfather's brother, died in that big earthquake before I was born. And the uncle you knew as Ennosuke is now Kaginosuke III—a name that's rarely given. It's for the actor who has distinguished himself as an onnagata, and sometimes a generation comes along without one. Again, a great honor."

Kenshin shook his head. This all very confusing! "Sessha always wondered why everyone was called Oldest This and First That," he said. "Now sessha understands!"

They continued to walk some more, but now Kenshin was holding Bunjiro's arm continuously. Just from this short walk, he was getting tired. Still, there was one more person he needed to know about. "And Baiko-san," he finally asked. "What of Baiko-san?"

"Baiko-kun's still with us," Bunjiro said with a smile. "Remember that reward we all got from the governor for capturing those yakuza? Well, he told Grandfather he was going to take that money and set himself up as a carpenter, but Grandfather said to him, why not save that money and apprentice yourself to our theater's carpenter first? So that's what he did, and now he's our chief carpenter and set designer. He's got a wife and three kids, and he's happy as a clam."

Kenshin smiled. It was good to hear that at least someone he knew had managed a happy landing in this life.

"You know," Bunjiro continued, "he really took your departure hard. You know how talkative he always is. Well, he barely said three words to anyone for weeks. It was only after I was older that he told me about it, about how you were the first person who really understood what he was going through from being in the army. He worried about you for a long time—_still_ worries about you, in fact. The two of us are notorious around Kagoshima for being the great defenders against any and all slanderers of the Hitokiri Battousai."

That brought a smile to Kenshin's face. "Baiko-san was a true friend," Kenshin remarked softly. "He even came to make sure sessha wasn't hurt when sessha had to meet that man seeking revenge. This one told him he didn't have to worry, but he came anyway. It meant a lot to me. Sessha has thought of him often. Will you tell him that for me?"

"Of course," Bunjiro answered.

They were heading back to the engawa now, for Kenshin was visibly tiring with each step. It looked like Megumi had used the time to rewrap Sano's bandages, and now she waved to them.

"I sent Yahiko off to the Aoiya to fetch Kaoru-chan," she told Kenshin as Bunjiro helped him to sit. "She should be here any minute. I'm sure she would never forgive me if she missed this opportunity to meet a friend from your past!"

"Ah, your landlady, right?" Bunjiro remembered from their conversation.

Sano let out a low rumble of laughter at that; Megumi tittered quietly behind her hand. Another blush arose on Kenshin's face. "Well, she _is_ my landlady," he said lamely. "Sessha didn't lie…."

"You know," Bunjiro interjected with a sly smile, "Baiko-kun once told me the most interesting story about you. He says that back then, you were too honest all the time, that he had to teach you to just smile and tell people as little as you could get away with. That isn't, by chance, what you're doing right now, is it?"

"Oro? Kenshin exclaimed guiltily. "Sessha has no idea what you're talking about!"

Bunjiro burst out laughing. "So, Baiko-kun was telling the truth!"

Kenshin put on as innocent a look as he could manage—what else could he do? Here he had worked so hard all these years to convince people that his silly rurouni personality was the real him, and now Bunjiro was spilling his secret!

Bunjiro's comment, however, set him to thinking. Was it really Baiko who had helped him create his clueless persona? He had been acting the silly rurouni for so long that it was almost second nature to him, but now that he thought about it, he realized Bunjiro was right—it _was_ Baiko who had set him on this path. He smiled as he remembered the man who had saved him from that crazy marriage proposal, who had put up with him spilling soup in his lap, who had trusted him when no one else ever would have. Now he realized that if it hadn't been for Baiko and his wise advice, he might never have survived as long as he had as a rurouni.

Megumi watched as flickers of memory crossed Kenshin's normally unreadable face. Well, well, well, she thought as little fox ears began to sprout. Bunjiro's insight was indeed a revelation, and it answered so many questions about Kenshin's personality! As she heard the shoji slide open and saw Kaoru and Yahiko in the doorway, she called out, "Oh, Kaoru-chan, "wait 'till you hear what I've just learned!"

Bunjiro stood to bow, and Kenshin moved to stand as well, but Megumi held him back. He was looking more tired than was good for him. It was probably time for him to go back to bed.

There was a flurry of introductions, and Sano and Yahiko fell all over themselves trying to be the first to tell Kaoru about Kenshin's secret life as an onnagata.

"Kenshin!" Kaoru said, surprise making her eyes look as big as saucers. "How come you never told us about this!"

"Yeah," Sano said. "All this time you could've given Jou-chan here some lessons in how to be a lady!"

Kaoru scowled and started reaching for her ever-present bokken.

"Tsk, tsk, Kaoru-chan," Megumi chided. "We don't want to give Ken-san's friend the wrong impression of you, do we?"

Kaoru growled, then forced a bright smile on her face. "So, Bunjiro-san, do you ever come to Tokyo? We have some wonderful kabuki theaters there, you know."

"Actually, I'm headed there in a few weeks," he said. "Kenshin-san, I didn't get a chance to tell you yet, but First Uncle finally did move to Tokyo, just before the Seinan War. What with all the political turmoil from the insurrection, he and Second Brother thought it would be a good idea to set up shop in the capital, just in case we found we'd have to leave Kagoshima. Sort of history repeating itself, you know?"

A strange look come over Kaoru's face; Bunjiro noticed. "Gomen nasai," he said suddenly. "Did I say something wrong?"

"What? Oh, no," Kaoru said, forcing herself to smile once again. "It's just that…well, my father died in that war, that's all. But that's okay—don't worry about it! So, your uncle acts in Tokyo? What's his name?"

"Saemonosuke VII," Bunjiro said.

At that, Kaoru's jaw dropped, all sad thoughts suddenly forgotten. "Saemonosuke?" she repeated in awe. "_The_ great Saemonosuke?" A brief silence descended on her, before…."I don't believe it, I don't believe it—uwaaaa!" she cried out.

"Oh, no, not you, too," Yahiko groaned. "We already went through this with Sae-san. What's with you women and actors anyway?"

"It's just…._the_ great Saemonosuke?" she said again as she fanned herself to keep from fainting. "Megumi, do you realize who this is? The nephew of _the_ great…."

"Yes, yes, Kaoru-chan, I think we get the picture," Megumi laughed. "Well," she said to Bunjiro, "I am most impressed. Perhaps we'll come to see you when you're in town."

"Actually, I've written a new play, and Uncle has agreed to stage it when I go," Bunjiro said. "It's something you may find interesting—it's sort of about you, Kenshin-san."

Kenshin looked up, startled. "About this one? Why…."

"I don't think you quite understand the effect you had on me," Bunjiro explained. "You may have been with us for only a few days, but you influenced me more than almost anyone else I've ever met. It wasn't just that you were so different from those swaggering samurai heroes I was used to from our plays, and still you overcame those those evil yakuza. It's that you treated me like I was worth something, like maybe even a twelve-year-old had something to contribute to the world. It made a real difference to a self-absorbed kid like me. And then to find out the world wanted you dead for something that happened years and years before, when you weren't much older than I was? It just seemed so unfair, because anyone with eyes could see you weren't what people said you were. So I wrote a play to show the world the truth. Technically, it's about the feud between Minamoto Yoshitune and his brother back in the thirteenth century, but it's really about you."

Bunjiro reached into his chest pouch now, pulled out one of his cards, and started writing on it. "Here," he said, holding it out to them when he had finished, "take this. It's a voucher for free admission for all of you to see the play." At Kenshin's discreet, "Oh, no, sessha couldn't…," Bunjiro said, "You, too, Kenshin-san—especially you."

Kenshin didn't know what to say. He had lived so long with his burden of guilt, with the ever-present belief that because of that guilt, his life was worth nothing. It was only his promise to Tomoe, in fact, that had kept him all these years from giving in to despair and taking his own life. Now to find out that years ago someone had found something of worth in him? Not just in his sword, but in his very existence?

"Bunjiro-san, sessha …," he began to say, but this revelation was more than his tired mind could take in. He suddenly felt the urgent need to lie down and rest—both mind and body, at this point, were past the point of understanding. He left the sentence unfinished, causing Megumi to say worriedly, "Ken-san?"

He shook his head to clear the tiredness from it, then answered softly, "It's been a long afternoon, Megumi-dono. Sessha thinks perhaps…."

"Yes, you're right," she finished for him. "Sano, would you take Ken-san back upstairs? I think he's had enough for one afternoon."

Sano reached down to help Kenshin stand, then let him lean on him as they slowly headed for the shoji.

Bunjiro stood as well. "I've overstayed my welcome," he said apologetically. "Your friend Sano-san warned me not to stay too long, and look what I've done."

"No, Bunjiro-san," Kenshin smiled. "Sessha can't thank you enough for coming, for…for everything. Please, will you tell your family and Baiko-san that sessha has never forgotten their kindness? They have meant so much to me, even after all these years…." And then he was gone with Sano.

Bunjiro watched as he disappeared through the shoji, then turned to Megumi and said, "Is he going to be okay?"

Megumi sighed. "To tell you the truth, I don't know. His wounds are so serious, and he lost so much blood…." She heard Kaoru gasp, and she realized this was the first time she had admitted this even to herself.

"The thing is," Megumi continued, "I don't think he's really built for the sword style he uses, and his body really can't take much more."

"What do you mean?" asked Bunjiro.

"Well, you should see his shishou," Yahiko cut in enthusiastically. "He's huge!" and he held his arms out wide to show just how huge the man was. "I mean, as much as I admire Kenshin and all, he _is_ a bit scrawny…."

"Scrawny?" Kaoru screeched. She whacked him over the head with her bokken. "The thing is," Kaoru continued more calmly, "when you see his shishou use the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, you realize it was really designed for someone a lot … bigger." She glared at Yahiko. "But Kenshin's obviously been able to overcome that little problem. It's just that, according to Sano, Kenshin had to use the succession technique three times against three different opponents during his battle, and even his shishou admits that using it just once is enough to tax his own body…."

"Well," Megumi suddenly broke in with a bright smile, "let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe he'll be just fine," but deep down, she knew it wasn't true. Maybe it was time to have a little chat with Kaoru about what she was beginning to suspect about Kenshin's condition.

"Yes, maybe you're right," Kaoru sighed, but she didn't look like she believed it, either.

Bunjiro had a sudden thought, then reached again into his chest pouch to pull out an old, dog-eared fan. "Here," he said, handing it to Kaoru, "take this. It's been my good-luck charm all these years, but I think maybe you should have it now."

Kaoru took the fan and turned it over in her hands. Nothing special that she could see about it. Then, at Bunjiro's urging, she opened it up. On it were drawings of four actors with their flamboyant signatures beneath. "Daisuke VI," "Orinosuke V," "Ryosuke III," and "Ennosuke II," it read.

"Look down at the right-hand corner," Bunjiro prompted.

There, at the bottom, in a small, somewhat childish hand, was "Shinosuke I." It was Kenshin's handwriting. Kaoru looked up in confusion.

"It's from the day Kenshin-san performed in Miyazaki," Bunjiro explained. "He signed some extras, but not all of them sold. I've carried this one with me ever since."

"Oh," Kaoru breathed as she realized what it was. "I couldn't possibly accept this…."

"No," Bunjiro smiled. "Take it, as a token of my esteem for Kenshin-san. Maybe it will bring you as much luck as it's brought me."

He stood then and said, "Well, I really must be going. I have a performance tonight, and my father doesn't know I'm here. Please, come see us when you return to Tokyo. I know my uncle would be thrilled to see Kenshin-san again. He's the one who taught him how to be an onnagata, and he still says that performance he did with him of _Demons Out, Fortune In_ was the most fun he's ever had on stage."

They all got up now to accompany Bunjiro to the front door, and he waved as he walked down the street to head home. It had been an intense afternoon for him. To see Kenshin so injured and weakened had been upsetting, to say the least, but to see how happy Kenshin seemed to be in the midst of these people was a consolation. He hadn't realized how much worry he had been carrying around with him all these years, worry that because of his past, Kenshin would never find the happiness Bunjiro was convinced he deserved. But now, suddenly, his heart felt light. He kicked up his heels and started whistling a tune. He couldn't wait to tell Byako!

The End.

Japanese Terms:

Yakuza: criminal gang.  
_Izayoi Seishin_: A famous kabuki drama in which the young priest Seishin is banished for falling in love with the geisha Izayoi, causing the two to decide to drown themselves. Neither dies, however, and both are drawn into lives of crime and murder.  
Kenjutsu kata: the prescribed moves used to learn and perform sword-fighting.  
-chan: honorific for a child, as opposed to the –san used for an adult.  
Shinai: practice sword made of bamboo, meant to mimic a real sword.  
Gomen nasai: very sorry.  
Uwaa: an exclamation akin to 'wow.'  
Okashira: boss.  
Arigatou: thank you.  
Onnagata: in kabuki, the man who plays the women's roles.  
Engawa: porch.  
Bokken: a wooden sword.  
Seinan War: The unsuccessful, short-lived samurai revolt against the Meiji government in 1877. It took place in Satsuma.

**Author's Note:** So, there you have it—the answers to all your questions (I hope) and the end of this tale. If you want to know what happens next to Kenshin, then run (don't walk) to Haku Baikou's excellent "Recovery," the story of what happens while he's recuperating from his battle with Shishio (there's a reason Sano and Misao are concerned about Shishio's returning men). And just to give myself a very shameless plug, observant readers may remember the gossipy greengrocer Ko from my previous story, "In Search of Family." Making him the source of Bunjiro's information was a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself!

Thanks, everyone, for your suggestions and wonderful words of encouragement over the past year (and thanks, Calger-san, for help with that "Uwaaaa!). It's been great fun creating and writing about the Daisuke kabuki family, and especially great fun turning our favorite rurouni into an onnagata . As for what might spill next from my fevered little brain, I really couldn't say, although one or two ideas have popped into my mind. You'll just have to wait and see!

One last note: Death to editing program! This is the fourth attempt I've made to fix what that program has screwed up!

**Co-Conspirator's Note: **I'm going to miss the Daisuke family a lot. It's been so fun getting to know them and writing about their antics and such. I can't believe this story is finally over. It's a pity that Kenshin didn't get to meet Baiko again (pokes C. hard in the arm), but I guess there can be only one epilogue—or can there? (only one!—C.). I'd almost forgotten about how much I loved Ko. There's nothing that goes on in or outside Kyoto that Ko the greengrocer doesn't know! Despite the fact that there was a little too much Kaoru in this chapter for my liking, it was still a lot of fun to write. As for Bunjiro's play, we actually had the plot written out, but it seemed a bit too long to put in (way to long!—C.), but if enough people want to know, we can post the synopsis.

Well I guess that's all for now. Thanks so much for all of your support, it really means worlds to us every time we get a review. So until another twisted inspiration strikes again, ja ne!


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